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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26177770">Mating For Life</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/KrisRix/pseuds/KrisRix'>KrisRix</a>, <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/SHARKMARTINI/pseuds/SHARKMARTINI'>SHARKMARTINI</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Art, Developing Relationship, Enemies to Lovers, Falling In Love, Fanart, Fighting, Gore, M/M, Near Death Experiences, SnowBaz, True Love, bad vampire physiology, keep your sexual habits to yourself basil, look at me i made some shit up, vampire lore</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 04:27:28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>22,412</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26177770</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/KrisRix/pseuds/KrisRix, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SHARKMARTINI/pseuds/SHARKMARTINI</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Vampires mate for life.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>474</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Carry On Big Bang 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Mating For Life</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Ya'll can pry this idea from my cold, dead hands. </p><p>This fic was inspired by a line from <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/aralias/pseuds/aralias">aralias'</a> incredible fic, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/19791214">Sex and Blood</a>- “Technically since you let me bite you, I think we’re mated for life.”</p><p>Thanks to <a href="https://krisrix.tumblr.com/">Kris</a> for everything. For being a constant support, for the gorgeous art, for betaing, and for choosing to be associated with me and in this fic in any way at all- and for making my collab dreams come true.</p><p>Thanks to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonstonemagic/pseuds/Moonstonemagic">Moonstonemagic</a> for being the best friend anyone could ever ask for, for always having my back and supporting me while I freaked out about this, for all the laughs, and for just being perfect.</p><p>And finally, thanks to the COBB organizers for organizing this event. I had a wonderful time participating, and I can't wait to have the time to read all the fics and see all the art!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>SIMON</strong>
</p><p>It sounds easy, a paper and a spell. That's the entire eighth year Magickal Words curriculum.</p><p>It's the final two days of classes, which means it's time to hand in our papers and show off what we've been working on. Most of us in the class are average, so most of the spells will be little things— new ways of tying your trainers, or something that clears the dust out from under the bed.</p><p>Small things.</p><p>Obviously, Penny had other ideas. Or she did until she switched her focus halfway through the term. I asked her about it, trying to find an idea of my own to work on, but she’d mostly shrugged me off— “<em>I've been thinking a lot Simon. Things are so different now…</em>"</p><p>She hadn't explained further, which was fine with me. If anyone understands how little you can get across using your words, it's me. I patted her on the back instead and told her that she'd be able to do anything she wanted. (It's true— she can. Penny is amazing.)</p><p>Things became clearer when she and Micah had broken up halfway through the year. I don’t often think of Penny as a girl (I mean— obviously she’s a girl. I only mean that she’s my <em>friend </em>first, and a girl second) but being dumped in eighth year is a big deal. Everyone is pairing off like crazy— and now she’s got to start over again, right as we’re all splintering off. The other girls make faces when she walks by. I know it drives her crazy, but they’re right, Penny hates leaving things unfinished. She never procrastinates— all her schoolwork is done on time, and way before the deadline. It’s great because it gives me something to look over by the time I get around to starting mine. But now, starting over again at the end of school, having to redo something she thought was a done deal— well that would drive Penny absolutely <em>mental</em>.</p><p>Which is why I’m not as surprised as I should be when Baz stops outside the classroom and snatches Penny's paper from her hands on our second to last day.</p><p>"A <em>love </em>spell?" he asks, signature brow already raised. "Bunce, surely you of all people could have come up with something more useful and less childish. Maybe a spell to make Snow less of an imbecile."</p><p>I growl at him, but Penny doesn’t let anything get her down. "Fuck off, Pitch,” she says, ignoring him and grabbing her paper, flipping through the pages.</p><p>We all file in quietly. Part of the evaluation is proving your spell actually works, and no one is looking forward to being put on the spot— except Penny. She always volunteers to go first so she can get it out of the way.</p><p>She doesn’t even bother waiting before walking to the front of the class.</p><p>"I created a love spell," she starts, waving her paper (which is at least fifty pages by the looks of it) and dropping it on the professor's desk. "And I'm going to need a volunteer."</p><p>The room immediately goes silent. I look around, but no one is making eye contact with Penny. I keep looking around the class, avoiding it too.</p><p>The professor clucks, but Penny isn't deterred. "Get up here, Pitch."</p><p>He's already sneering, but even Baz wouldn’t start a fight about something like this in front of the professor. He’s too much of an insufferable swot. He takes his time though, smoothing out the imaginary creases in his trousers and buttoning his blazer before making his way to the front of the class.</p><p>The look he gives Penny makes me flinch.</p><p>She waves her ring at him. "<strong>Love is blind!</strong>"</p><p>A couple of us lean forward eagerly. I can't wait to watch Baz Pitch make an idiot out of himself.</p><p>Nothing happens. We all wait a moment, watching Baz tap his foot impatiently. "Spectacular, Bunce. It's not only childish, but a complete dud as well. You've really outdone yourself."</p><p>"Shut up," I tell him, getting to my feet.</p><p>He looks amused for a moment, before sighing and shaking his head, heading back to his seat. "Bloody waste of time, is what this is."</p><p>I grit my teeth, but Penny just shrugs it off. "Let me try again, I need another volunteer."</p><p>Rhys sighs loudly from the back but does us all a favour and wheels himself up to the front of the class.</p><p>"<strong>Love is blind!</strong>" Penny casts.</p><p>"Ah!" he yells, hands flying up to his face, "I can't see!"</p><p>"Exactly!" Penny says, snapping her fingers. "You were blinded by love!"</p><p>The professor sighs. "Miss Bunce, you cannot blind the—"</p><p>"It's temporary," she says, leaning over and flipping through the massive pile of paper she left on the desk. "It's cured by kissing the object of the spell."</p><p>"What if they don't want to kiss him?" someone from the back catcalls. Keris, probably.</p><p>Penny rolls her eyes. "Technically, any kind of touch will do, even a handshake. A kiss is more romantic though, fits the theme better."</p><p>"How does the spell select the target?" Niall asks Penny eagerly. "Can it be controlled at all?"</p><p>"My research indicates kind of. You can influence the spell for certain. It seems to have a fairly limited range though, so it works better in close contact. And the subject needs to know the target— it doesn't work on complete strangers."</p><p>Rhys is still breathing heavily and palming at his eyes. Poor bloke.</p><p>"So, why didn't it work on Baz?" I ask, frowning.</p><p>Penny shrugs. "I don't know, it should have. The only people it doesn't seem to work on are aromantic, or already magickally bonded to another mage."</p><p>"What about dead people, does it work on them?" I ask, staring at Baz. He rolls his eyes. "Since vampires are—"</p><p>The class groans in unison and I sink down into my seat, crossing my arms. I'm especially ticked off when I notice even the professor joins in. Baz turns around in his seat to sneer at me.</p><p>"Enough, Snow. You'll need to charm me the old-fashioned way if you're hoping for a date."</p><p>I jump out of my seat, but Agatha reaches over and tugs on the back of my jumper. "Sit <em>down,</em> Simon! You're embarrassing."</p><p>"Hey," Rhys cuts in. "Can someone <em>please </em>wheel me out of here. I need to go find my true love and get my fucking sight back."</p><p>"It's not your true love," Penny calls after him, as Gareth gets up and wheels him out. "It's more like… a suggestion. Someone you're attracted to and would have good compatibility with!"</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>BAZ</strong>
</p><p>Trust Bunce to add to my ever-growing list of anxieties.</p><p>There are no books in the library on vampires (I made sure of that). Not that there didn't use to be. Fiona told me to steal them all on my first night at Watford. I'd felt like a right tit (books <em>belong </em>on shelves. In a library.), but I knew she was right, so I did it anyway. As the years progressed, I was quite grateful to my aunt for having anticipated this somehow. Even in Snow's most desperate times he hasn't been able to find any information he can use against me. It's just my luck the Bunces don't like having him over so he can't raid their private library.</p><p>(Wellbelove's library is an affront to the very word. That hasn’t ever concerned me— he won’t find anything useful there, in that cursed and awful place.)</p><p>However, none of this has stopped <em>me </em>from looking up information on vampires from time to time.</p><p>I wait until Snow's left for dinner before I set a ward on the stairs and lock the door. Then I open his wardrobe and undo the invisibility and undetectability charms on the topmost shelf.</p><p>Snow owns hardly anything. His wardrobe is pitifully empty, even after almost eight years. And he's not tall enough to reach the top shelf on his own so he doesn't put anything up there. Which is useful to me, because with a couple of spells it becomes the perfect place to hide things from him.</p><p>(He's daft. He's always going through my wardrobe and bag looking for anything suspicious, but it would never occur to him to check <em>his. </em>If my roommate were someone— anyone— smarter this wouldn't work, but Snow is thick.)</p><p>I know exactly what I'm looking for. There are only a few books that have any information actually about vampires, rather than just listing where to find and how to kill them.</p><p>I blow the dust off a particularly old and decrepit volume, skimming the index and flipping through pages until I find what I'm looking for. I drag my finger down the page, careful not to tear the fragile paper when I finally see it and—</p><p><em>Fuck me. </em> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>1 YEAR LATER</strong>
</p><p> </p><p> <strong>SIMON</strong></p><p>I dodge a curse as I run across the football pitch.</p><p>The school probably wasn't the greatest place to have the final showdown. The final battle.</p><p>(Term hasn't let out yet. It's only May, which means the students are all huddled up inside their rooms on the Mage's orders. Some of the students who are of age had come down to help, but not many.)</p><p>Honestly, I don't <em>really </em>know what we're fighting about. Taxes, political ideology? The way the Mage had spun the whole thing I'd expected for us to be fighting for the future of the World of Mages, but most of our opponents aren't even spelling to maim, let alone kill.</p><p>(The Mage hadn't specifically told us what to do— only to “do what needs to be done.” Really, I expected more instruction than that.)</p><p>What I <em>do </em>know is that Baz should be here. And that I should kill him.</p><p>I've always known that.</p><p>I duck another curse as I run into the chapel, and down the secret passage into the Catacombs. </p><p>The torches are all lit, the light from the fires flickering along the main corridor. It isn’t long until I see him near the entrance to one of the crypts. He's waiting for me, leaning against the wall of the tunnel.</p><p>He's <em>flicking through his phone</em>.</p><p>"Oi!" I yell, my voice overly loud. "There's a war going on up there, and you're down here just— <em>hiding</em>?"</p><p>He puts his phone away before straightening up. "I was waiting for you."</p><p>I can’t believe him. "There's people up there— fighting for their lives— and you're just going to stand back and wait while others get hurt?"</p><p>He sighs and pushes himself off the wall. "Alright, Chosen One. Let's end this. Right now."</p><p>He pulls his wand out of his sleeve while I summon the Sword of Mages. I can feel my magic pulsing with my anxiety. Baz is more than a match for me. This might be it.</p><p>"A final word, if I may." He's twirling his wand between his fingers, keeping eye contact the whole time. I'm sweating through my shirt, my heart racing— and he looks cool as ever. "Return my body to my family so they can bury it."</p><p>I step back in confusion. What is this?</p><p>"You're a vampire," I tell him slowly. "If we don't burn your body you'll just resurrect at the next full moon."</p><p>He sighs again. "That's not how it works Snow. Once you kill me, I'll be dead. I swear it. Let my family bury me, it will bring them peace."</p><p>"No!" I yell, baring my teeth at him. It's just like him to try and manipulate me, make me feel guilty about something we both know I need to do— even at the end of it all.</p><p>"Fine, then. I suppose there's no point in asking you to ensure their safety in exchange for an easy fight?"</p><p>"You're the last person I'd ever trust enough to make a deal with."</p><p>He shakes his head. "Alright Snow, we'll do this your way."</p><p>My magic is pushing to the surface now, and I let it go, forcing it out of me as I run towards him with my sword out.</p><p>"<strong>What you don't know can't hurt you!</strong>"</p><p>There’re hundreds of attack spells. Even more defensive ones. This is neither.</p><p>I'm so surprised I freeze, but my sword is already embedded in his side. It makes a sickening sound as it pulls free, blood flowing down the blade and dripping to the dirt floor.</p><p>"Ah, fuck." Baz sways and starts falling to the ground, and I drop the sword and catch him by reflex. He starts laughing, a little hysterically as I fall to my knees in the dirt, pulling him into my lap.</p><p>There's so much blood. Who knew vampires even <em>had </em>that much blood in them. (I sure didn't.) His fangs are out, pushing over his bottom lip as he continues to laugh.</p><p>"What— what—" I'm stammering, watching the blood soak into the dirt. I fumble with his shirt, pushing it aside so I can press my hands against the wound, but he pushes my hand away.</p><p>"Enough, Snow. Let me die in peace, would you?"</p><p>"I don't understand—" I choke. He closes his eyes. I wish he wouldn't. "What was that?"</p><p>(It's a stupid question, even by my standards. I know what that was. A spell for skinned knees and bruises. Penny used it on me once in first year, when Baz had used magic to tie my shoelaces together at breakfast and I'd fallen on my face as I'd gotten up. It dulls pain and wipes the memory, so it's good for little accidents and not much else. I only know about that incident at all because Penny told me afterwards.)</p><p>(Why? Why didn’t he cast something at me— instead of using something so useless on <em>himself?</em>)</p><p>"Did it work?" I ask him, trying to focus on anything other than what's happening right now, the feeling of cool blood soaking through my trousers.</p><p>"No, not really," he gurgles. "It was worth a try though." Nothing about this makes any sense. "I’ve only the pleasure of forgetting what was probably our final conversation." he adds, opening his eyes. They're unfocused, like he's looking right through me. I brush some hair off his forehead, leaving a trail of blood across his skin.</p><p>"You asked me to keep your family safe. And to return your body to them."</p><p>He hums, closing his eyes again. "I don't suppose you were going to take me up on either of those, were you?"</p><p>I take a deep breath but don't say anything. (He's my <em>enemy</em>. And yes, he's dying, but if for some reason he doesn’t, and I've already made promises—)</p><p>"Typical," he clucks.</p><p>"Why aren't you casting anything," I finally ask. "You've still got your wand."</p><p>He smiles. "What's the point?"</p><p>"What's <em>the point</em>? I don't know— to take me down with you? You're petty and vengeful— isn't that like," I startle as something cold brushes my wrist, and then I realize it's his hand. I take it in mine because I don't know what else to do. "Isn't that like your whole plan?" I grip his hand tightly, the blood on my palm tacky and cold.</p><p>"Let me tell you a secret Snow," I lean down. "There is no plan. I haven't had a plan for years now. I stopped trying to take you down in sixth year."</p><p>My heart stops.</p><p>"You're lying. How could you— that makes no sense, Baz, fuck—"</p><p>"Shhh," he says, squeezing my hand. My throat feels tight. I don't know why. I've killed plenty of dark creatures before— and I've known I'm supposed to kill Baz or die trying for years…</p><p>This is my <em>destiny.</em></p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>BAZ</strong>
</p><p>I feel light-headed. The pain is fading somewhat, but it's still enough that it's hard for me to catch my breath. Simon's heart is thumping in his chest— faster than I've ever heard it. He told me to cast something, but I don't have the strength to lift my wand. Not even to cast <em>Keep Calm </em>on him.</p><p>But that's alright. I'm here in his lap (in his lap!) and he's breathing loudly and wetly— and he's just so alive. I'd have given anything to keep him that way, so in all, I count this as a success.</p><p>He lifts our joined hands to his chest, pressing them against his heart. If my body wasn't so distracted by its imminent transition to death, I'd be swooning.</p><p>"Vampires mate for life, you know," I tell him, because death robs you of common sense before your heartbeat, apparently.</p><p>"What?" I keep my eyes closed as he startles beneath me. (I wish he wouldn't— the dizziness is now edged with pain and it hurts to move, even a little.)</p><p>"It surprised me too," I tell him. "A cruel joke— but I just wanted you to know it couldn't have gone any other way. Don't blame yourself, Simon. I don't."</p><p>And then there's nothing.</p><p> </p><p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>SIMON</strong>
</p><p>My magic is bubbling up in me, the smell of it thick around us. I'm trying to hold it back, trying to press it down, but the more I push it down, the stronger it gets.</p><p>I'm drenched in cold sweat, Baz's hand clutched in mine, tears blurring my vision.</p><p>"Baz," I croak. "Wait, <strong>stop</strong>! You can’t die— what the fuck did you? I don't—"</p><p>And then the pressure builds to a crescendo and I lean over his body, needing to shield it even as I feel myself go off.</p><p>-</p><p>I come to in a blackened pit deep in the dirt, Baz cradled in my lap. If not for all the blood he looks like he could be sleeping. I'm still holding his hand. I lean over him, pressing my forehead to his. And then…</p><p>I hear yelling and footsteps.</p><p>I turn my face up towards the edge of the crater, half-covered in loose dirt and I see Penny and Baz's aunt Fiona stick their heads over the edge.</p><p>The sound Fiona makes when she sees Baz makes my heart wring itself violently.</p><p>"Get away from him!" she hisses, waving her wand threateningly as she jumps down into the pit. "You're going to regret—"</p><p>"He's breathing!" I cry, trying to scramble for my wand without jostling him. I struggle as Fiona pulls him out of my arms and into hers.</p><p>"<strong>Early to bed and early to rise! Get well soon!</strong>"</p><p>"What happened?" Penny asks, dropping down into the pit and helping me up. Fiona is still casting spells on Baz, supporting him against her side.</p><p>"He didn't— we were supposed to fight, so I came and found him… but he didn't try to fight back. I don’t know why… he said something about vampires… mating for life—”</p><p>My head is spinning. I feel like I'm about to be sick. Penny spells me clean twice, but I can still feel the sticky remainder of Baz’s blood on my hands, under my nails.</p><p>(I can still feel it, cold and thick— pooling under my hands and sliding down my wrist—)</p><p>I notice it's quiet as Fiona stops her barrage of spells, watching Baz with wild eyes. It's silent as a grave as we all wait…</p><p>"F'na," Baz mumbles. Fiona fists her hands into the collar of his shirt, pulling him close and sobbing into his shoulder. Then, just as quickly, she shakes him violently. Penny and I wince. (Also I feel like I understand Baz a little bit better for it. I've always known he was a dramatic wanker and figured he got off on it— but maybe he just doesn't know better since his aunt is apparently the same brand of crazy.)</p><p>"<strong>Get well soon</strong>", she casts again before letting him go. "You <em>didn't fight back</em>?!" she screeches at him and he winces. "What is all this nonsense, so help me, I will set you on <em>fire </em>you—"</p><p>Penny's looking between us with a look that usually means trouble.</p><p>"You and Baz are a bonded pair?" She asks, looking much too excited for someone who basically walked into a funeral. "That explains why the spell in eighth year didn't work on him!"</p><p>Fiona is frowning. "Can't be a bonded pair if one of you is dead, and I know which one of you I'm voting for—"</p><p>"Fiona, please," Baz interrupts her. "I could use a cuppa and a lie down. Could we argue about this later?"</p><p>"Unless you give me a good reason not to, I'm going to kill the Chosen One and his sidekick right here in this forsaken pit."</p><p>He sighs, swaying a little. "Better not. Bunce is right, Snow and I are a bonded pair. If you kill him, I'll wither away and die rather tragically."</p><p>"Bullshit," she says, narrowing her eyes. But she doesn't raise her wand any higher. Baz just shrugs.</p><p>"Where does that leave us?" I ask him. He raises an eyebrow at me. "I meant, with the war and everything."</p><p>"Well, I can't kill you," he admits.</p><p>I shake my head. "I can't fight someone who won't even defend himself. Fuck— Baz—" he stops me with a look.</p><p>We end up walking out of the Catacombs together. He still looks a little unsteady on his feet but when I try to support him with a hand on his back, the look he gives me makes me hesitate.</p><p>There are fewer people out here than there were before. Penny whispers it’s because everyone felt my magic go off, and most people ran away from it.</p><p>The Mage appears out of nowhere, and I put myself between him and Baz before he can ask what’s going on.</p><p>“We need to talk to the Old Families.” I tell him.</p><p>He doesn’t look pleased with me. “Simon— you know—”</p><p>I don’t wait for him to finish. "I won't fight him," I interrupt. “That won’t solve anything.”</p><p>He sighs heavily. “Simon, this has always been your destiny.”</p><p>"No. My destiny is to defeat the Humdrum— not fight over… y'know."</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <strong>BAZ</strong>
</p><p>This moron has no idea what he's even been fighting for. Aleister fucking Crowley, he's an imbecile.</p><p>(He’s only just killed me, and he couldn’t be bothered to figure out why he was expected to before jumping right to it?)</p><p>I see my father and Daphne running towards us, wands out. They look confused to see Snow and I standing together (albeit relieved), and lower their wands, joining our small group hesitantly.</p><p>The Mage is still arguing with Snow, looking as incised as I’ve ever seen him. "Simon, you're too young to understand— but this is just a single part of a bigger picture—"</p><p>Snow interrupts him. "I'm an adult, and I understand plenty. I won't fight Baz, you can't make me. I'll go find the Humdrum, I'll fight him. That's my purpose— and I’ll leave you all to figure out the rest."</p><p>The Mage sneers. I’m immediately angry— only <em>I’m</em> allowed to look at Snow that way. "Your purpose. <em>Your purpose</em> is to protect and save the World of Mages—”</p><p>"Yeah, and Baz and his family are part of that. So…"</p><p>I glance over at my father. He looks surprised. He wouldn't be, if he knew anything about Snow's propensity for heroism. This is very on-brand behaviour for him. I’m only surprised that he didn’t think up this little scene sooner.</p><p>The Mage looks around like someone might come and defend his point of view. No one does. He sighs and frowns at Simon. "I was wrong about you. I thought you could do this, but you're not ready. I've failed you."</p><p>The look on Snow’s face has me weighing the pros and cons of beheading the Mage right here on the football pitch. </p><p>Before I’ve decided, my father steps forward, surprising me. "I think what you've said makes a lot of sense, Mr. Snow. Have you ever thought about running for a seat on the Coven?"</p><p>Snow looks as surprised as I feel. I think he’s choking.</p><p>(I cannot believe my father. I doubt he would be making this offer if he knew less than an hour ago I had almost died at the end of Snow’s sword. But since I <em>didn’t </em>I can say that this approach is not entirely meritless.)</p><p>“I don’t— I don’t think—,” Snow looks back at me like I might have something to say about all this. I raise a brow at him.</p><p>(I have a lot of thoughts about this turn of events. None that I particularly wish to share, especially in front of everyone.)</p><p>“Start coming to Coven meetings, at the very least,” my father continues. “Learn about how it all works. You and Basilton could help us mend relations, show others that we’re stronger together. Who knows, one day you might even change your mind.”</p><p>“Er. Thank you?” Snow says, looking lost. His expression reminds me violently of every time he was ever called upon during Greek.</p><p>People are starting to drift away, their reason for being here forgotten. Fiona shoves me forward towards her car.</p><p>It isn’t until I’m being forced into the backseat that I see Snow has followed us. </p><p>"Baz?" he looks confused. "Should I be…?" he gestures towards the car.</p><p>"I can't imagine why," I tell him. "Unfortunately, we’ll be seeing each other rather soon at Coven meetings.”</p><p>He frowns, gesturing between us. "But aren't we…?"</p><p>I sigh. "Snow, our connection is a <em>magickal </em>one. There's nothing else to it, it's not like anything has changed between us."</p><p>"Right," he says, looking around. He looks relieved, actually. "Great, okay. I'll see you around then."</p><p>I don't bother saying anything else to him, slamming the car door in his face harder than necessary as Fiona tears off towards the estate.</p><p>-</p><p>If only it were as easy to explain everything to my father. But that was wishful thinking on my part, especially after Fiona left me out to dry.</p><p>(Daphne had told me that she was proud— but she’s a motherly sort. She’s never approved of all the fighting. She’s rather a pacifist, and I imagine refusing to fight Snow seemed to her to be a statement on the morality of the situation rather than what it actually was— choosing the most expedient and least painful route to certain death.)</p><p>Of course Fiona had been quick to fill my father in.</p><p>"I don't like it. Not at all." My father is sitting behind his desk, tapping a bronze pen against the wood. Fiona is standing in the corner of his office, probably waiting for another opportunity to suggest murdering Snow in his sleep.</p><p>I nod. "I understand, father."</p><p>"It leaves their side with too much power. Maybe we could find a way to bind him to you in return— we could suggest it as a sign of goodwill—"</p><p>My stomach twists. "No, father."</p><p>He sighs. "This is not what I wanted for you."</p><p>"I know," I tell him, "I'm sorry."</p><p>He looks surprised. “No— I only meant… he's had a hard life. He'll continue to have a hard one. I would not wish for you to be bonded to someone with that hanging over his head." He thinks for a moment and adds. "Although, it would have been nice to have grandchildren someday."</p><p>"Duly noted." I say drily.</p><p>We don’t discuss the subject again.</p><p>-</p><p>The headaches start coming back.</p><p>I expected they would, of course. I first started getting them a couple of weeks after we graduated from Watford. I ignored them in the beginning, but they kept getting worse and worse.</p><p>I know what they are. It's a sign of the bond.</p><p>I'd told Snow that our bond was magickal, and I wasn’t lying— I just chose to omit that it's also physical… and emotional (on my end, anyway— completely unrelated to the bond.)</p><p>They're a fucking nuisance, is what they are. A physical reminder of my continued reliance on Snow. It's dreadful.</p><p>I know they'll go away if I spend time near him. But I won't allow myself to give in to that particular indulgence any longer.</p><p>Especially considering the last time we were that close he tried to kill me.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>SIMON</strong>
</p><p>I'm finishing off a carton of takeaway when Penny comes home, dropping a stack of books on the kitchen table in front of me.</p><p>"Uh, Pen—" I say when I see <em>What's happening to my body, a handy guide for teenage boys </em>sitting on the very top of the pile. I wonder why she thinks that would be useful <em>now </em>of all times. (Maybe it would have been five or six years ago. I've got it all sorted now though, thanks to the internet. Not that I’ve really needed it. Maybe she's figured out— rightfully so— that I've never gotten the birds and bees talk good and proper? She needn’t bother though— I don't need it.)</p><p>She comes back in the room with a pair of latex gloves, a notebook, and a pen, and sits down across the table from me.</p><p>"Simon—" she starts, pulling on the gloves as I wave her off.</p><p>"I appreciate the thought, but I've got it mostly figured out on my own, thanks," I tell her, gesturing to the book,</p><p>(I decide to ignore the gloves.)</p><p>"What?" she asks.</p><p>"What?"</p><p>We look at each other, and then both look at the book. Then she laughs and removes the glamour spell.</p><p>I wish she'd spell it back.</p><p>The book is old, in the process of falling apart. And it reeks in a way I didn't notice just a second ago. It smells old, dusty, and vaguely… decaying. Like it's made of something that was once living and is now rotted. The black and dark grey cover makes me think of mould.</p><p><em>Blood Magick </em>is embossed on the cover. It's almost impossible to read, with the way the leather is practically disintegrating.</p><p>"I can't believe you brought this into our home," I tell her, going back to my dinner. "And while I'm trying to eat, too."</p><p>"It doesn't look like it's putting you off," she says matter-of-factly, before she gingerly opens the book and starts flipping through it.</p><p>I can't look away from it. It's disgusting, and repulsive, and if the title is anything to go by— full of dark, dangerous magic. But there's something oddly compelling about it, almost seductive. I've never been so interested in a book before. I realize I've been inching closer and closer to the book, hand creeping across the table towards it when Penny elbows my hand away.</p><p>"<strong>Hands to yourself!</strong>" she spells me, before turning another page. "Don't touch this thing without gloves," she explains. "This book is one of a kind— banned, of course. Took me ages to find it. Rumour is it's cursed <em>and </em>poisoned somehow. No less than five prominent researchers have been found dead face down in this book since it was written."</p><p>"Penny," I whine, "I feel like it's polite to ask permission before bringing a cursed and deadly object into a shared space."</p><p>"Stop whinging. I'm looking for information about your bond with Baz."</p><p>That makes me stop.</p><p>Baz.</p><p>I'd called him twice yesterday, and he hadn't picked up. I know he's okay though, because I'd gone by his building, standing out on the sidewalk until I'd seen a shadow move across the window of his aunt Fiona's flat. It could have been Fiona, but I've learned from the Coven meetings that she's usually away for work.</p><p>(Imagine being a vampire and living with a vampire hunter, even if it's your aunt. It's ridiculous. The whole thing is a farce— I can't believe no one had objected to putting Fiona in charge of the vampire task force. I mean I had, when the appointment had been made public two years ago. But I meant someone<em>, anyone </em>else.)</p><p>I sit at the table, waiting for my hands to unstick from my own chest and watch Penny squint at the book. The writing is smudged and uneven, like it was written by hand by someone with the shakes. Once the spell wears off I go back to my dinner, still hyperaware of the book but knowing to control it this time.</p><p>Penny makes notes and flips back and forth through the book. Eventually, she closes it, summoning a rag to drape over the cover and peeling off her gloves.</p><p>"Anything?" I ask, mouth full.</p><p>"Lots," she confirms. "But I was starting to get sleepy. Better not risk it. For now, anyway."</p><p>I nod and swallow. "So, the bond—,"</p><p>"The vampire equivalent of a mage’s marriage bond, more or less," she tells me, looking through her notes. "It begins with the ritualistic exchange of blood in <em>‘a moment of passion,’ </em>so please don’t try to explain to me how you and Baz got into this mess. Honestly, the way this book goes on, it seems more like a prolonged magickal mating ritual. It's unbreakable though, ending only in death. Usually, vampires enter one willingly, with the express purpose of procreation—"</p><p>"Vampires can have babies?" I ask, surprised— pointedly ignoring the bit about <em>passion </em>and the exchange of blood.</p><p>(I don’t have to think about that now. Or ever.)</p><p>"No— not like that. A vampire can only turn others once they've bonded," she clarifies. "It's got a lot of details on the suspected physiological and magickal changes, which are fascinating, but generally bonded vampires are stronger and more powerful than unbonded ones."</p><p>"So Baz is even stronger <em>and</em> more vampire-y than he used to be?" I frown. "Why don't all vampires bond if it's such a power boost?”</p><p>"There are a lot of disadvantages. You rely on your mate physically— like Baz told us, he'd die if you did. That checks out. Also, there's several illnesses that befall vampires who don't or can't be physically near their mate—"</p><p>This gets my attention. "Wait, really?"</p><p>"Yes," Penny confirms, dragging her finger across the page of her notebook. "Headaches are common in bonded vampires that don't spend enough time with their mate. They get more and more debilitating the longer the physical separation lasts. Eventually it progresses to generalized myopathy and weakness. If left long enough it'll start to affect the cardiac and respiratory systems, leading to death."</p><p>"So why hasn't Baz suffered any of these side effects? We haven't seen each other in weeks," I wonder out loud, frowning at my knees.</p><p>When Penny doesn't answer I look up at her, but she won't meet my eyes.</p><p>Right.</p><p>"Give me that book," I tell her, grabbing the gloves and snapping them on. "D'you have the pen ready? Good."</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>BAZ</strong>
</p><p>I haven't gotten off the sofa in ages. I don't even know what day it is.</p><p>I can do little other than lie in the dark in complete silence, wallowing in misery.</p><p>Snow should have just killed me after all— it would have been more merciful than this slow withering away.</p><p>I should have swallowed my pride and gone after him, like I used to. When I first realized what would happen to me if I stayed away from him. Luckily he's thick, and he's never seen through my glamour spells. It didn't take much, I'd sit behind him on the tube, get in line behind him at the grocer's— but that was before when I'd give in before it got too bad.</p><p>(I couldn’t bring myself to do it this time. To go and seek his help after he tried to kill me. I know what Snow thinks of me— he made that abundantly clear when he skewered me on the end of his sword. No matter how awful it gets, I imagine begging him to keep me alive would be worse. The shame, the <em>pity</em>. Just thinking of it is unbearable.)</p><p>I'll die here, on my aunt's repulsive faux-leather sofa, a victim of my own hubris. Like some kind of modern Shakespearean-inspired tragic hero.</p><p>No, Snow is the hero of this story. Of every story. I'm just another villain he's destroyed and conquered.</p><p>I'm so glad no one is around to witness this.</p><p>I'm so far gone I'm practically hallucinating. I can smell him— smoke and butter. I can imagine him too, warm (so warm), calloused hands and tumbled copper curls.</p><p>I had almost died in his arms- I guess to die while imagining his voice in my ears, his skin warm against mine would be an acceptable alternative.</p><p>-</p><p>I'm thirsty.</p><p>I can't remember ever being so thirsty.</p><p>I open my eyes.</p><p>I'm still curled up on Fiona's sofa. I shift a little, and—</p><p>Simon Snow is curled up behind me, hands tucked under the hem of my shirt and pressed up against my belly. I can feel his huffing breaths against the sensitive skin of my neck. I lie there, my body screaming at me to drink something, <em>anything</em>— (He's so close, his blood is sliding through him— I can sense it. I <em>want </em>it.)</p><p>All things considered though, this might be the best moment of my life.</p><p>I'm trying to decide between waking him and luxuriating in the moment when he startles, and I fall off the sofa to the floor.</p><p>"Baz!"</p><p>I groan. I feel like I've been hit by a lorry. I try to get up, but my knees buckle and I sprawl across the floor.</p><p>It's humiliating.</p><p>"Baz," Snow says, getting off the sofa and crouching next to me. "Can you stand?"</p><p>"Obviously not," I hiss at him. My fangs are out. I amend my previous position— this is the most humiliating moment of my life. "Back off!" I tell him, as he grips me under my armpits and lifts me, throwing my arm behind his neck to support my weight.</p><p>"Merlin, you're cold— and filthy," he grunts, as he helps me down the hall. He sets me down on the edge of the tub while he starts running a bath, muttering darkly at all the bottles and tubes. "Of course you couldn't own just regular soap instead of fifty different types of sodding hair goop," he gripes. He's making chaos of my carefully organized counterspace, but I doubt I have the strength to get up and stop him. Or help him. As it is, I'm swaying precariously on the edge of the tub as Snow finally finds a bottle he approves of and dumps the contents into the bath.</p><p>He undresses me efficiently. I’m too tired to muster the amount of mortification this situation deserves. He helps me lower myself into the water. I groan involuntarily— it feels so good.</p><p>He gets up and leaves the loo. Immediately I feel slightly nauseous and the headache starts building again. I want him to come back, but I can’t bring myself to ask.</p><p>I have no idea why he's here.</p><p>The overwhelming scent of blood hits me and I startle. Snow steps back into the loo with a takeaway carton of blood— complete with a straw.</p><p>He helps me hold the cup while I drink deeply. The urge to bite him lessens somewhat, which is a relief.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>SIMON</strong>
</p><p>The book didn't say how long death by separation would take. Penny had a few other books, mostly about marriage bonds, but they weren't helpful.</p><p>(How could they be? Marriage bonds are standard magic. They have rules, and begin with intent and an incantation. It’s impossible to end up in a marriage bond by accident. Also, they need continuous and explicit consent to keep working— you’re not stuck forever if you don’t want to be. Nothing at all like this weird blood magic that has somehow bonded Baz and I together, unwillingly, for life.)</p><p>(‘<em>Maybe be more careful about who you passionately exchange blood with, then!’ </em>Penny had said when I pointed all this out to her. Which is unfair. I’ve fought so many monsters over the years— hardly a month goes by without me ending up drenched in blood from battle. And Baz and I have gotten into so many fistfights and scraps over the years— honestly, I’m not surprised this managed to happen to us.)</p><p>(Not that Penny asked, but if I had to guess, I’d say this happened back when I broke Baz’s nose. I was so surprised— I didn’t know vampires could have that much blood in them. Maybe I nicked a knuckle on a fang at the same time, who knows- and boom! Freaky bloodmate bond activated. Thinking about it now, it’s a pretty shit ritual. Too easy to accidentally trigger.)</p><p>Anyway, I was concerned about all of this. It’s a lot of information to try and process at once. I kept trying to call Baz, but he wasn’t answering. Normally he screens my calls, but it really freaked me out this time. Penny kept arguing that Baz and I had already been separated for about a year, so obviously the whole process of withering away had to take longer than that, or else Baz would have already died. Which meant I had no reason to be concerned.</p><p>And it made sense. Plus, Penny's the smartest person I know. I'd trust her with my life.</p><p>I don't know why I ended up outside Baz's flat anyway, but I did. And I waited, and waited for the light to come on, but it never did. Then I went home and came back the next day, and the next.</p><p><em>He could be visiting his family</em>, I thought to myself. <em>Or in class. </em>(He’s still an insufferable swot- taking extra courses during the summer instead of taking a break like a normal person.)</p><p>He'd come back different in eighth year. Late, practically in the middle of the semester and with a brand-new limp and fear of the dark. He wouldn't be up there now in the middle of the night without a single light on. I decide it couldn't hurt to do a wellness check of sorts.</p><p>(I didn't know what else to do. He wouldn't answer my texts, or my calls. I hadn't heard from him in weeks. He could have been up to something, plotting even. Or hurt. Or worse.)</p><p>I stopped at the butcher's and got a couple of pints of blood as an excuse. I was just going to pretend I'd ended up with them and thought that maybe he'd like them. When he wouldn’t answer my knocks, I spelled the door open, and then I'd gone in and found him—</p><p>I can't even think about it.</p><p>(It was like seeing him cold and limp in my arms all over again. Except without all the blood. But just as lifeless and… gone. It’s wrong— Baz has never been peaceful a moment in his life. Not even when he’s asleep. That’s when I knew something was really really wrong with him.)</p><p>It's morning now, which means I spent the night wrapped around him on the sofa. The book had said that physical closeness is what's needed, but it didn't really specify how close. Figured I'd err on the side of caution.</p><p>The barest hint of colour has started coming back to his face, either from spending the night close together or from the blood— I don't know which.</p><p>When he's done with the cup, I make to bring it back out to the kitchen. He releases a small pained sound as I move away from him- and I decide to leave it on the counter instead, sitting on the bathmat next to the tub. He still looks so tired, just lying there with his eyes closed.</p><p>“Pass me the—” I say at last, because sitting here doing nothing only makes my nerves worse. His arm trembles like lifting the bottle is too much work.</p><p>The smell of cedar and bergamot is familiar and comforting as I lather up his hair. His head is tilted back into my hands, his eyes closed. (Which is for the best— this feels uncomfortable enough without the added stress of <em>eye contact</em>.)</p><p>I notice he’s fallen asleep again as I rinse his hair out.</p><p><em>It couldn’t hurt to rest my eyes for a bit</em>, I think to myself as I spell the water hot again.</p><p> </p><p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>I wake up from a deep sleep to the sound of tapping.</p><p>I crack open an eye, and then surge awake at once when I see Fiona leaning against the door frame, tapping her foot.</p><p>“This looks cosy,” she says pointedly.</p><p>I’m off the floor and out of the loo as quick as I can manage, tripping over my own feet in my haste.</p><p>“It’s not what you think,” I say, lifting my hands to protect my face in case she tries to cast something. “I came to see him because I was worried about him! He wouldn’t answer my texts. I needed to make sure being apart wasn’t hurting him, or—”</p><p>“So you finally did some research, huh?”</p><p>“Some,” I admit. “Penny helped.”</p><p>“I didn’t doubt it for a second, kid.”</p><p>“Anyway, I don’t know why the distance didn’t affect him before, but I hadn’t heard—,”</p><p>“It did affect him. He usually bitches and whinges for a couple of days, but he glamours himself and follows you around London a few times a month.”</p><p>I stop. “Oh, I didn’t know.” That makes a lot of sense, actually.</p><p>“Probably prefers it that way,” Fiona says.</p><p>“When I got here, he was just— on the sofa.” I swallow. “He looked awful. Paler than usual. I don’t know when the last time he hunted was. Or ate.”</p><p>“Why are you telling me this?”</p><p>“Because I want you to believe I won’t hurt him.”</p><p>It’s silent for a moment and I know we’re both thinking the same thing. Baz’s lifeless body, slack and heavy in my arms. The cold, sticky blood dripping down my hands and wrists, sinking into the dirt.</p><p>I swallow.</p><p>“Again,” I clarify. “I won’t hurt him again.”</p><p>The look she gives me makes my throat dry. Probably because I know she doesn’t believe me for a second.</p><p>The sinking feeling in my stomach doesn’t go away even when she finally decides to leave me alone. If only Fiona was the only person I needed to convince— as it is, I’m having a lot of trouble believing myself.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>BAZ</strong>
</p><p>I wake up, warm and comfortable in bed.</p><p>Then I realize it’s because Snow is spooning me again, and I’m immediately uncomfortable and ready to bolt.</p><p>“How do you feel?” he asks as I roll as far away from him as I can get.</p><p>“Get out of my bed!” I hiss at him. He gets up and sits on the floor, leaning his head against the mattress. It makes it hard to ignore him when he’s <em>right there. </em>In my room. In my bed. Aleister Crowley, I’d have given almost anything to get him in my bed, and now the universe has conspired against me to turn my deepest fantasy into a cheap joke.</p><p>And all it costed me was my dignity.</p><p>I press my palms into my eyes and groan. He panics immediately.</p><p>“Are you okay? Baz, what do you need? Should I—” </p><p>“Just— stay where you are Snow.”</p><p>His heart rate’s up, I can hear it hammering away. I wonder why he’s still here. Always the hero, couldn’t stand to let his enemy die in peace.</p><p>This whole production is so Snow it <em>hurts</em>.</p><p>I take a couple of deep breaths, trying to pull myself together. At least I don’t feel like I’m about to waste away anymore. And the headache is gone. He could probably leave the room right now and I wouldn’t notice.</p><p>(<em>Obviously </em>I’d notice. I mean in the physical sense. The bonding-type sense.)</p><p>“What do you want?” I snap at him as he continues to watch me, breathing through his mouth.</p><p>“I think you should move in with me.” It comes out of him in a rush. We both stare. “I only meant— I wouldn’t need to call, or stop by—”</p><p>“You don’t need to do either of those things—” I tell him.</p><p>“But I do, I do—” he pulls at the roots of his hair, making a face. “I have no idea where you are, or what you’re doing—”</p><p>“You had absolutely no problem with that a year ago, and yet you managed just fine.”</p><p>“You almost died.” he argues. “<em>Twice</em>!”</p><p>“And whose fault is that exactly?”</p><p>“Baz, just listen to me—” he pleads.</p><p>I shake my head. “No, you listen to <em>me</em>! I know you’re used to getting whatever you want if you</p><p>growl about it loudly enough, but I am not one of your adoring fans, and I won’t do something just</p><p>because you want me to.”</p><p>“Merlin forbid you do <em>anything</em> that I might want, even it would benefit <em>you</em>.”</p><p>“You have no idea I want,” I say coldly.</p><p>“Then tell me!” It’s a disgrace to my name that I take a moment to consider it. I blame it on those boring blue eyes. “If you won’t— then let me tell you what I want, okay?” I frown but don’t interrupt him. I doubt I have the stamina to keep arguing with him. The smarter plan would be to let him get all worked up by himself to burn some energy off before we start fighting again.</p><p>He takes a deep breath, looking around the room as if to make sure we’re completely alone. “I just— I need to know you’re okay. There’s nothing— it’s the worst thing, just not knowing.”</p><p>“Well, I’m fine.” He gives me a look. “I’m fine <em>now</em>.” I clarify.</p><p>He shakes his head. “You’re so fucking stubborn. Look, I know you’re pissed off about it, but it’s done. I don’t for sure know how or why, but we’re bonded. It’s done. The best thing we can do is just— make it work, keep you alive.”</p><p>“This seems like a giant contradiction to your original plan—,”</p><p>“I was wrong, okay? Is that what you want to hear? I was wrong, and I shouldn’t have—” His eyes are shiny. Oh, fuck. He’s going to cry.</p><p>“Snow—”</p><p>“It’s all I dream about, every night. It’s the only thing I see when I close my eyes,” he whispers.</p><p>Snow has been calling me between nine and twenty times a week. Texts every couple of hours. I guess this is why.</p><p>I decide to take pity on him. "I admit, it might make some things easier but it’s a bad idea. Full stop. Besides, you and Bunce probably don't have the space.” I say quite reasonably.</p><p>"We could share!” he says immediately, like the idea isn’t complete insanity. “Just like at Watford.”</p><p>I’m so shocked I forget to sneer at him. "Are you listening to yourself? You want me to move in with you… and share a room.”</p><p>"Yes. Yes, let's do that.” he confirms.</p><p>“You can’t be serious.”</p><p>“Why are you making this so difficult?”</p><p>“Why are <em>you? </em>I know you still hate me, despite whatever moral distress you’re going through.”</p><p>He shrugs. "But won't that get rid of the headaches?”</p><p>My brows raise and I pull back in surprise. “And what exactly do you know about those, Snow?”</p><p>“Only what I've been able to look up— which isn't that much." he frowns. "There really ought to be more books on vampires. It's been hard to get actual information, and the book we’re using is cursed too. Merlin knows how I'd have found anything without Penny."</p><p>“Merlin knows how you manage anything without Bunce,” I tell him, but he’s not paying attention, lost in his own thoughts. I sigh. "As much as your idea makes a sort of perverse sense, I can’t imagine being roommates would be very practical—,”</p><p>"Why not? I’m sure you’d love to move out of Fiona’s. Plus, it won’t hardly be a bother for you, it's not like there's someone else." I sneer at him. What a stupid fucking thing to say. He waits, then frowns, adding, "because, I mean— you can't, right? The book says—"</p><p>"I know what the book says," I snap at him.</p><p>Aleister <em>fucking </em>Crowley. Of course I can't fuck anyone else— what part of <em>mating for life</em> did this imbecile not understand?</p><p>(I've done some research. Kind of. To see if maybe the books were wrong— or if there was a way, any way, to make it work. I was unsuccessful and humiliated enough to accept defeat.)</p><p>The prospect of life-long celibacy would make anyone tetchy, probably.</p><p>I sigh. For all that Snow’s ideas are bad ones, I must admit that this one makes more sense than they normally do.</p><p>“What about Bunce?” I ask— because I’m weak. “Won’t she have any concerns about this plan?”</p><p>“Are you kidding? Penny would love to live with a vampire— she’s got so many questions-,”</p><p>“I am not a science project,” I hiss.</p><p>He holds up his hands. “It’s not me you need to convince.”</p><p>I frown. He’s still looking up at me, leaning his head against the side of my bed. It’s going to smell like him later.</p><p>(I can only imagine how awful it’s going to be, laying here after he’s gone and smelling him, <em>wanting </em>him. It’ll be just as bad as it was during school if we share again. Maybe even worse, because now he knows the worst thing about me and still offered anyway.)</p><p>I look down at him. He’s looking up at me through his eyelashes, waiting for me to say something. The sunlight comes in through the bedroom window and his hair shines a burnished copper.</p><p>I swallow.</p><p>Then nod.</p><p>-</p><p>“I’m going to move in with Snow and Bunce.” I tell Fiona later that night as we sit through a Top Gear marathon.</p><p>“Ah, he’s finally ready for the next step, is he? I’m sure you’ll very happy together.”</p><p>“Come off it. It’ll stop the headaches. Plus, Snow’s place is closer to school.”</p><p>“Only you could chase a bloke around London and have the gall to say to my face that you’re only thinking of your education,” she chides me.</p><p>“Well, not only,” I admit.</p><p>It will be easier to live with him, even though I know he’s only offering because he feels guilty. But by moving in I can pretend it’s about something else. Maybe he and Bunce need help with rent, who knows. At least I won’t have to grovel for his attention to prevent from wasting away. Instead I can quietly share his space and we can both go on ignoring the reality of our situation.</p><p>It’ll appease the bond.</p><p>The stupid, life-wrecking bond I never anticipated or imagined and now have to deal with.</p><p>(A falsehood I’ve been telling myself all year. In fact, I’ve always imagined being part of a bond with Snow. A marriage bond, but a bond all the same. We could have had the whole thing, all the bells and whistles up at Watford, on the lawn.<em> It's my home, </em>Simon would have said, <em>I can't imagine getting married anywhere other than home. </em>It would have hardly mattered, anyhow. I would get married anywhere as long as he was there.)</p><p>(The stupid, insipid thoughts of a stupid moron. I’m a disgrace.)</p><p>I lie awake that night, thinking about all the things I have to pack and trying to ignore all the things that really matter.</p><p>I don’t succeed.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>SIMON</strong>
</p><p>“Why did I think this would be a good idea?” I ask Penny one night during dinner. “You should have slapped some sense into me.”</p><p>Living with Baz has been— to put it lightly— hell. He’s constantly bitchy and in a terrible mood. It’s even worse than it was back at Watford, because now there’s no foreseeable end to this. At least during school, I had the summer and winter hols to look forward to. As it is, I’ve started staying late in my uni <em>library </em>of all places, because it means less time tip-toeing around Baz and his temper.</p><p>“I feel bad for him,” Penny says. “It’s probably pretty rough being bonded to someone who hates him. Don’t let him get to you.”</p><p>"What about me?" I ask, spilling crumbs all over the counter, "I'm also bonded to someone who hates me! Feel sorry for me instead."</p><p>Penny looks over at me frowning. "It's not the same and you know it," she tells me, looking down pointedly at the crumbs, now dangerously close to some paper or other she’s been working on. I shrug— I'll clean it later.</p><p>"I'm probably suffering just as much as he is in this whole situation."</p><p>"You are most definitely not. He is irreversibly bonded to you— he literally needs you to stay alive. Any suffering that you're going through is something you've inflicted on yourself."</p><p>“S’not fair. The crucible inflicted him on me first, and now I can’t ever get rid of him.” I sigh. “I don’t deserve this.”</p><p>“He’s not that bad,” she tells me, going back to her book. “He can be downright pleasant, in fact. The other day we had the greatest conversation about Middle English spells and Chaucer—”</p><p>“Maybe you should be bonded to him,” I say glumly, pushing the food around on my plate.</p><p>“Not my type. And I sincerely doubt I’m his.”</p><p>“Well he’s not my type either— and yet…”</p><p>Penny gives me <em>a look</em>. “Just try being nice to him for a change. Try to see this situation from his perspective. I know it didn’t get you anywhere before, but your relationship is different now. It makes sense for you both to get along. I’m sure he’ll see you trying and let up.”</p><p>“Be nice to him,” I mock, and she sighs, packing up her work.</p><p>“Just give it a try, please Simon,” she says.</p><p>I’m still thinking about it while I get ready for bed later that night. Maybe Penny has a point.</p><p>He’s had a rough couple of months. He’s almost died (Twice!).</p><p>I check my phone. He should have been back by now, even if he decided to feed before he got home. (I’ve still never seen him do it. Just the once, drinking the blood I bought him from the butchers. I know Penny keeps a stash for him in the fridge, but I’ve never actually seen him drink it. He does though, because when it’s her turn to go to the grocer’s she always unpacks a new carton.)</p><p>I turn off all the lights and lie awake.</p><p>I think back to what Penny said, and try to consider this whole thing from Baz’s perspective. Maybe he’s having trouble adjusting and being nice to him would make him feel better.</p><p>Then I decide no, it’s probably some kind of vampire hormones— maybe they’re all really bitchy. Plus, all that pent up frustration, maybe.</p><p>I wish I still had the book so I could look it up. We’d still had it when Baz moved in and he <em>hated</em> it. I swear I heard him hiss at it one evening when Penny went out and left it open on the kitchen table. (He says he wouldn’t ever do something so <em>base and</em> <em>primal,</em> but I know what I heard.) Anyway, I was pro book, until Baz came home from hunting late one night and found me face down in a passage about mating rituals. Then he and Penny overruled me and banned it from the house.</p><p>(I think it was safer to have the book here. I’d rather live with a murderous book that had reliable and important information about my bloodthirsty roommate than live with just the bloodthirsty roommate, and have no information at all. But like I said, I was overruled.)</p><p>I’m thinking longingly of the book when I hear a soft noise and sit up in bed.</p><p>
  <em>Baz.</em>
</p><p>He opens the door quietly, probably because he’s hoping I’m asleep and he can avoid my questioning. No such luck.</p><p>“Where were you?” I ask, waving my mobile. “You didn’t answer my texts or calls.”</p><p>“For fuck’s sake Snow, I’ve been out.”</p><p>He drops his bag on his bed. I eye it and bite my lip— odds are good I’ll have an opportunity to go through it while he’s in the shower later.</p><p>(I’ve already been subjected to three separate conversations about <em>respecting privacy</em>. All I’ve learned is that it isn’t worth it to go through his things unless I’m certain he’ll be gone long enough for me to get away with it.)</p><p>I wonder what he’s been up to.</p><p>He frowns and stares at his bed. I don’t know how good his sense of smell is, but it can’t be good enough for him to know I checked under his mattress earlier, in case he’d decided to hide something there.</p><p>“Don’t touch my things,” he snaps, before heading towards the loo.</p><p>Lucky guess.</p><p>I wait, straining my ears until I hear the shower turn on— perfect.</p><p>I’m across the room and in his bag immediately. I check his day planner first, taking pictures of his schedule for next week. Then I check today’s slot and see where he was.</p><p>
  <em>Study group 2000 hr.</em>
</p><p>I frown. Plausible, but even Baz isn’t a big enough nerd to go to an evening study group. I file it away as ‘suspicious,’ just in case it’s code for something. Then I open his pencil case and go through it. Flip through his notes (boring, I don’t know why he even bothers). I don’t have enough time to go through his laptop (a weekend project usually, for when he goes to the club to play tennis and do whatever it is that rich people do when poor people aren’t around).</p><p>I double-check to make sure I haven’t missed something.</p><p>Something crinkles in one of the side pockets. I wait a moment, but I can still hear the shower running.</p><p>I tear into the pocket.</p><p>I stop and stare, the sound of my own blood rushing in my ears.</p><p>It’s a rubber.</p><p>I don’t know why, but suddenly I feel hysterical. Where did he get this? Is he secretly buying these? I don’t often manage to nip into his credit card statements (those still get sent to Fiona’s) but I check all the receipts I find in his pockets and in the bottom of his bag. I would remember if he was buying <em>rubbers</em>.</p><p>I hear the water shut off and I clumsily pack everything back into his bag and bolt back to my own bed.</p><p>I’m still holding the rubber.</p><p><em>Why would Baz need a rubber? </em>I think as I turn it over in my hands. It’s got LSE student services written on the packet. That calms me down a bit. Maybe he just… picked it up while he was there?</p><p>And then tucked it into his bag for safekeeping?</p><p>What does it mean? Why did he want to keep it?</p><p>(I mean… there’s the obvious thought that he might have been keeping it to use later. Which doesn’t make any sense because he <em>can’t</em>.)</p><p>I press the heels of my hands to my eyes until I see colours.</p><p>Why, why, why?</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>BAZ</strong>
</p><p>My bag <em>reeks</em>. Like cinnamon rolls, burnt sugar, and smoke.</p><p>I sigh. Hadn’t I told Snow not to go through my things?</p><p>He’s scowling at me from where he’s crumpled up in bed like I’m at fault. I open my mouth to snap at him.</p><p>Snow crosses the space between our beds. I think we’re about to continue to fight until he pushes me down onto my bed and climbs on top of me.</p><p>“I’ve had enough of your shitty attitude,” he growls as he pulls down my pyjama trousers and shoves his hand down my pants. “You’re not usually this much of a twat, so I’ll be nice and figure it’s because you’re frustrated.”</p><p>It’s completely unexpected, to say the least.</p><p>“Snow,” I groan, pushing my hips into his hand desperately. I don’t know what’s gotten into him, but I don’t care— gripping him hard, breathing heavily into his shoulder as he jerks me roughly.</p><p>“That’s right,” he says. “You need it, and I’m the only one who can give it to you.”</p><p>“Yes,” I pant. “Crowley, fuck— yes.”</p><p>He gets up, removing his hand from my pants. I’m about to beg, whine— <em>anything</em> to get his hand back on me, but then he’s tearing at his own pyjama bottoms, peeling them off and getting back on the bed with me. I sink my hands into his hair as he removes mine completely.</p><p>He tugs both our pants down, not even bothering to kick his off before he lines us up and strokes us together.</p><p>I’m losing my mind.</p><p>Everything is hot, the air between us humid as we pant into each other’s mouths. Feeling his hardness against mine is heady and overwhelming.</p><p>(It’s so good. I wonder if it’s even better because I’m in love with— and bonded to— him, or if this would feel just as good with someone else. <em>It doesn’t matter</em>, I decide immediately. He’s the only one I’ve ever wanted to do this with. The only one I’ll ever do anything like this with.)</p><p>It’s too much. It won’t ever be enough.</p><p>I try to warn him. “Snow, fuck, I’m gonna—”</p><p>And then I come all over my own stomach.</p><p>I’m breathing heavily, loose limbed and sated. Snow is still panting into the crook of my neck, his hand slick with my come and working himself feverishly.</p><p>Remembering this is going to get me off for the rest of my life.</p><p>“Better?” he asks later, breathing heavily beside me.</p><p>I have no idea what to say, so I nod dumbly. Physically, I do feel better, but I can only imagine how much worse this is going to make everything.</p><p> </p><p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>I consider skipping my morning game with Dev, but in the end, I decide that might not be the answer to this. To whatever that was.</p><p>It’s a quiet, easy morning— but I still check my phone feverishly between matches. I’m both grateful and annoyed when I notice Snow has only texted me once.</p><p>
  <em>How’s Dev?</em>
</p><p>I send him a rude emoji back.</p><p>In truth, I’ve thought of little else but Snow all morning. I’m in danger of swooning, or something else equally as juvenile. In fact, twice this morning I’d caught myself staring into nothing, smiling as I thought of Snow, the taste of him, the weight of him pressing me down into my mattress.</p><p>It’s disgusting.</p><p>Our game runs late. When Snow refrains from texting me again and asking where I am, I feel positively fond. It’s awful, saccharine and completely off-brand, but I stop by his favourite kebab place after I leave Dev at the club, and order his favourites.</p><p>I’m cautiously optimistic.</p><p>I park in front of our building and sigh, leaning over the steering wheel. I wish I knew what he’s thinking. There’s got to be a way for me to turn this into something real, but I’m not quite sure how to do it.</p><p>I’ve always got the answers, except when it comes to him.</p><p>It drives me mental.</p><p>I plan a whole speech, then immediately discard the idea once I’m done. Snow is a man of action— not words. I might have better luck if I just— kick in the door and grab him. <em>Good morning darling,</em> I’d say, kissing him passionately. Then, just to ensure my success, I’ll present him with the takeaway.</p><p>Perfect.</p><p>And then the door to our building opens, and Agatha Wellbelove walks out.</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <strong>SIMON</strong>
</p><p>What a morning.</p><p>I didn’t know Agatha even knew where we <em>lived.</em></p><p>(It’s not like I thought she needed to know, especially after we broke up. I haven’t heard from her in months, so opening the door to her was surprising and awkward.)</p><p>I’d started some tea as we’d made difficult small talk. I couldn’t figure out why she was here. Then she gave it all away— her dad was wondering why I’d skipped the last two Coven meetings. He hoped I was still considering running for a nomination for a seat someday. (As if Baz has given me any time to think about <em>that</em>. He already hates and wants to kill me, I can only imagine how much worse it would get if I tried to do something like usurp what he probably feels is his birthright.)</p><p>Merlin.</p><p>As if that wasn’t bad enough, the moment Agatha left, Baz himself had come back, leaving a trail of fury in his path. He’d been so soft last night, falling asleep quickly, that I’d hoped we’d successfully done away with his rotten temper. </p><p>But it was too much to hope for, and now he’s avoiding me.</p><p>Maybe we shouldn’t have…</p><p>I thought I was doing him a favour.</p><p>(Both of us a favour really. Baz is bitchy even when he’s in a good mood, but he’s been insufferable recently. I was hoping that relieving some tension would give me just as much of a reprieve as him.)</p><p>I felt great when I got up this morning. Like we’d finally gotten <em>something </em>right between us. But maybe that was just the bond, and it doesn’t mean anything more than that. I thought we’d fixed something, but maybe we only made it worse.</p><p>It wouldn’t be the first time I got everything wrong.</p><p> </p><p> <strong>BAZ</strong></p><p>When I’d gotten back to our place (after I finished shoving the kebabs in one of the neighbour’s bins) I’d locked myself in our room immediately. I don’t have time to deal with Snow and his true love’s theatrics. I’d figured they were off for good, but it was too much to hope that the universe had given me a reprieve from their fairy-tale romance.</p><p>I pace, muttering to myself. I deserve this. For being such a sentimental moron. There’s no way Snow could ever feel even a fraction of what I feel for him. He’s only letting me be near him as an act of charity. Of pity. Perhaps as some misguided attempt to atone for attempted murder.</p><p>Something crunches under my feet.</p><p>It’s the condom from LSE student services. I remember it being pressed into my hand as I walked by to study group. I also remember stuffing it into the side pocket of my bag to toss later so Snow wouldn’t find it.</p><p>I guess I’d forgotten about it.</p><p>I pick it up and set it on fire. (Another mistake, burning latex smells fucking awful.)</p><p>At least this partially explains last night. I knew it was too good to be true, that Snow must have had an ulterior motive— and here it is. I don’t know whether it’s pity or a misguided attempt at risk management. (I wouldn’t want to share a room with a randy monster either. Especially one without an outlet. I doubt Snow thought about it too deeply— or at all— but managing the risk makes sense.)</p><p>Obviously, it meant nothing to Snow.</p><p>(It meant <em>everything</em> to me.)</p><p>It’s perverse. A vampire bond is supposed to enhance powers, make you stronger. Instead, I’m completely reliant on Snow’s sense of responsibility and pity, gagging for any scraps of attention he condescends to give me. He’s completely in control.</p><p>And I’m weaker than ever.</p><p>-</p><p>I decide to take the week off and spend it with my family. I regret the decision on my drive back to London— I can feel the headache building. I know it’s only my faulty perception that tells me it’s worse than usual. Probably because I’ve been spoiled by being near Snow over the past few months.</p><p>He’s not there when I get back to the flat. I wait an hour before I start pacing around our room.</p><p><em>Where are you?</em> I give in and text, sounding much more like him than I’m comfortable with— but needs must.</p><p>I practically pounce on Bunce when she gets home that evening.</p><p>“Where is Snow?” I snarl at her, and she startles, dropping a book and a couple of pens in the doorway.</p><p>“Fuck Baz, where did you come from?” She squints at me. “Are you feeling alright?”</p><p>I ignore her. What a stupid question. “Snow,” I say instead, getting back to the topic at hand. “Where is he?”</p><p>“I don’t know, I’m not the one obsessed with him.”</p><p>I hiss at her, and she startles again before I catch myself and clear my throat. I shouldn’t let her get to me. After a week without him, I’m fragile enough. I close my mouth tightly over my fangs and take a step back.</p><p>I am very cool. I have it all together.</p><p>“Do you have any idea where I might find him? He hasn’t answered my texts,” I say quite reasonably.</p><p>“Show me your fangs and I’ll do you one better— I’ve got a tracker on his mobile.” I’m immediately intrigued. I don’t know why I didn’t think of that. Bunce really is a genius.</p><p>“Later. We can revisit the topic some other time.” Hopefully never. I’m betting she’ll forget about it.</p><p>“No way. No fangs, no tracker.” she says, waving her finger at me.</p><p>I grimace as much as I can without actually revealing my teeth. I quickly weigh the pros and cons. Obviously, I resent being told what to do by <em>Bunce</em>. On the other hand, she has information that I <em>desperately</em> need.</p><p>“You would use this moment of weakness against me?” I say, trying to coerce her into doing the right thing. The look she gives me says <em>obviously, you moron. </em>“You’re ruthless, Bunce.” I sigh and square my shoulders. “Don’t get too close,” I warn her, and she rolls her eyes. Then I open my mouth and pull my top lip back.</p><p>“Fascinating,” she breathes, immediately ignoring my simple and reasonable request to stay back.</p><p>“Bunce,” I warn her again, as she crowds me back against the kitchen table in her haste to get a good look. She smells like brownies, like damp earth, something <em>alive</em> and—</p><p>“Stop that,” she says dismissively. “I can tell you’re smelling me. Ignore it.”</p><p><em>Will this humiliation ever end? </em>I think to myself as she mutters under her breath and continues squinting up at me.</p><p>“Can you retract them?” she asks, reaching up. I slap her hand away. Bunce is well hydrated, her radial pulse strong and bounding. I don’t want it anywhere near me.</p><p>“No touching,” I order, swallowing nervously. “They’re venomous.” I’m relieved when she doesn’t press the issue.</p><p>She looks impressed. “How have I never seen them before? They’re huge.”</p><p>I grin despite myself and she shoves me, but we’re both laughing.</p><p>“C’mon then,” she says, kicking at my ankle as she pulls out her mobile and opens Find My Friends.</p><p>I’ll admit I’m disappointed. “I thought you meant—,”</p><p>She snorts. “I know what you thought, but I don’t need to track Simon with a <em>spell</em>. We always want to be able to find each other.”</p><p>Jealousy tries to claw its way out of my chest, but I desperately try to ignore it.</p><p>“That’s strange,” Bunce says, shaking her mobile. “It says he’s in Ipswich.”</p><p>“Ipswich? What in Crowley’s name is he doing there?”</p><p>“Not sure,” Penny says, dialling and pressing her mobile to her ear. “How did he even get there?” We wait.  “He’s not picking up.”</p><p>I sigh. I’m exhausted, the pressure behind my eyes unbelievably distracting. All I want is to curl up in bed, a safe distance between too close and too far from Snow- and sleep. The last thing I want is to chase him down while he’s off traipsing around the country and enjoying being away from me.</p><p>But I need him. I need him so much that even the humiliating thought of appealing to his sense of duty and unrelenting heroism isn’t enough to dissuade me.</p><p>“No matter Bunce, I’ll go get him and we’ll see you in a couple of hours.”</p><p>“Not on your life, Pitch. You look like you’re ready to fall over. I’ll drive.”</p><p>“You’re not going to drive <em>my car</em>—” I start.</p><p>-</p><p>Bunce ends up driving the car.</p><p>-</p><p>“Huh,” I glance at Bunce’s phone. “It looks like Snow’s on the move.”</p><p>There’s a car heading towards us, smoke pouring out from under the hood. Bunce slows down. The driver’s side door flies open and Gareth comes tumbling out. I’m not yet over my surprise when Snow hops out of the passenger’s side and gestures wildly.</p><p>If he’s surprised to see us, he doesn’t let on.</p><p>“Baz!” he cries, flinging open the backseat and tugging what looks like Rhys out. I’m at his side so quickly, there’s no way Rhys and Gareth won’t know there was something more than magic responsible.</p><p>It’s then that I notice the itch in my throat. The air is too dry.</p><p>I look back at Bunce, who must have noticed the same thing, because she’s looking around, her ring up and ready.</p><p>I startle when Snow dumps Rhys into my arms and pulls his wand out of his own pocket. I barely have time to think about why, because then I hear a shrill shriek over the wind.</p><p>It’s a fucking Roc.</p><p>"Go on, get the fuck out of the way!" Snow cries, gesturing wildly as I toss Rhys over my shoulder and grab Snow by the wrist, dragging him to my car.</p><p>(I don’t bother checking behind us as we run, but I assume Gareth’s not too thick to follow us.)</p><p>I shove Snow into the backseat and toss Rhys in after him. Gareth runs up, opening the boot and shoving Rhys’ chair in, spelling it to fit.</p><p>I throw myself into the driver’s seat, Bunce already in the passenger side, casting spells on the car. I’ve always loved sports cars— and as I tear down the motorway, I can honestly say this bit of indulgence has finally come in handy.</p><p>I look over my shoulder- Snow is leaning out the window with his sword in one hand and wand in the other. “Go off, Snow!” I yell at him over the wind. “There’s no spell powerful enough to take it out— and the magic’s too thin! You’re going to have to go off!”</p><p>Because he never knows when to listen to me, he wastes a bunch of magic on some useless spells before turning to me. “You know it doesn’t work like that- I can’t just decide—”</p><p>“It absolutely does!” I tell him, reaching behind my seat and tugging at him. “Just unleash! You’re an absolute disaster— we all know you have no control over your magic. Stop fucking around and just <em>do it</em>!”</p><p>I startle as he grabs my arm, twisting it behind the seat. He sounds frenzied. “I can’t!” he cries, wind howling around us. “You’re too close! I can’t hurt you—”</p><p>Gareth grabs me by the shoulder, shaking Snow’s arm off mine and pushing me into the steering wheel. "Snakes alive! I will come back through the Veil to strangle you <em>both</em> if I have to die listening to you fight! Just fucking drive, Pitch!”</p><p>They’re all useless.</p><p>I’m so angry with them I almost miss the turn. I throw the car into a wide arc, desperately trying to hang on as everyone yells about something- the shrieks of the Roc rattling my teeth-</p><p>I hear the dinging before I understand what it means.</p><p>Then I look in the rearview mirror just in time to see Snow tucked into a ball, rolling off the road and into the ditch.</p><p>“Simon!” Bunce and I yell, but he’s already long gone.</p><p>“Do not turn this car around!” Gareth orders, and I don’t.</p><p>Instead, the car’s open door alarm dings again as I launch myself out of the driver’s seat, and back down the road towards Simon.</p><p>I’m inhumanly fast, but I’ve been separated from him this week and not as fast as I could be. I catch the glint of his sword as he faces down the Roc— my head pounding as the beast screeches and swoops—</p><p><strong>“Fortune and love favour the brave!” </strong>My voice catches, the air sucking and dry, but my hand is steady as I cast in his direction.</p><p>I just hope it’s enough.</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <strong>PENNY</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>The tube ride home is eerily quiet.</p><p>Even quieter than the long, long walk to the station had been.</p><p>Simon paces the carriage, legs of his trousers smoking and looking like he’s rolled around in the remains of a campfire. Baz and Gareth sit with Rhys between them, his arms over their shoulders.</p><p>No one will look anyone else in the eyes.</p><p>Every now and then Simon looks over at Baz with an expression I’ve never seen before.</p><p>Baz doesn’t look at Simon at all.</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <strong>BAZ</strong>
</p><p>My plan was to dump Rhys and Gareth at the side of the road and drag Bunce and Snow home.</p><p>I was overruled.</p><p>“We need to debrief,” Snow said, the sleeve of his t-shirt smoking. “They deserve to understand what happened to them.”</p><p>I watched the fabric smoulder, barely hearing him. He sighed and shucked his shirt, snuffing it out under his trainer.</p><p>I couldn’t look at him after that. It just made everything worse.</p><p>(He had to steal an “I HEART UK” shirt from a tourist’s luggage to get onto the tube. It’s unbelievably white against his sooty skin— not to mention unbearably tacky.)</p><p>We’re silent as we walk up the stairs to our flat. Snow pulls his keys out of his ruined trousers— looking surprised that they’re still there— before letting us in.</p><p>I try to push him in the direction of the loo, but he shrugs me off.</p><p>I decide to shower instead.</p><p>When I’m done, I look much more like myself- but the shaky feeling in my knees remains. My heartbeat still isn’t back to its normal slow pace.</p><p>I sigh, letting my forehead rest against the door and hear them all talking in the other room, Snow explaining how they ended up in Ipswich.</p><p>(Gareth and Rhys are concerned about my presence at Coven meetings. Specifically, at how closely Snow and I appear to be working together— which is a joke. Snow attends meetings, sitting right next to me, and blusters and stammers his way through his progressive and completely unrealistic ideas for mending relations between reformers and the Old Families. The rest of us nod politely before ignoring his suggestions, going back to discussing the things that actually matter. Occasionally my father indulges him, seeming to support his ideas, but I have yet to figure out the angle on <em>that</em>.)</p><p>It seems as though the Humdrum summoned Snow while the three of them were in the middle of an argument about my motives.</p><p>They’re still whispering fervently when I get out, toothbrush in hand. I’ve already changed into my pyjamas. I’m hoping they get the hint and leave.</p><p>Gareth does a double-take, then looks around the place. Bunce is in the kitchen making her bedtime tea. She’s already gotten my favourite mug out, bless her.</p><p>“Which of you live here, exactly?” Gareth asks. It sounds like an accusation.</p><p>“Uh,” Simon stumbles. “I guess- I mean, we all do. Yeah.”</p><p>"You two live together?” Rhys clarifies, shooting a glance at Gareth. I decide that when he gets a new chair, I’m going to find out where he lives and slash the tires while he’s sleeping.</p><p>They’re still staring, so I just shrug.</p><p>"I mean— yeah. With Penny. We live with Penny,” Snow mumbles quickly, rubbing the back of his neck. His ears are red.</p><p>“Obviously you live with Penny,” Rhys says. “That’s not what this is about—”</p><p>“Enough!” Snow suddenly snaps, and I startle. I’ve never heard Snow use that tone with someone who wasn’t me. “I live with Baz, okay? I go to Coven meetings with him, and he just helped save our lives. You should be thanking him. Not doing— whatever this is.”</p><p>They glance at me, and I shrug again. I don’t need their thanks, and if Snow hadn’t made me do it, I’d have left them exactly where I found the two of them. I’m pretty sure they know it, too.</p><p>Gareth looks deeply uncomfortable. “Look Simon, we just want to make sure that you’re safe. You remember what it was like between the two of you—”</p><p>“It’s different,” Snow says hotly. “You just watched Baz save my life. If that wasn’t enough to convince you, I don’t know what is.” I raise a brow. It’s kind of hot watching Snow tell others off— especially when it’s in defence of me. He looks over his shoulder at me, frowning. “I’m done talking about my relationship with Baz. It’s no one’s business but our own. If you don’t like the idea of us being together then you can leave, and we’ll sort out the Humdrum on our own.”</p><p>I choke on some toothpaste. I suppose that’s one way of putting it.</p><p>Rhys and Gareth look like they’d like nothing more than to melt into puddles on the floor, and trickle away through the crack under the door.</p><p>Bunce is ignoring us, muttering under her breath while she looks for the honey. She’s probably just about had her fill of petty drama for the day. I envy her ability to just choose not to engage. It’s probably how she’s managed to stay relatively sane while being so close to Snow all these years. She just tunes it all out and ignores it when she’s decided that she’s had enough.</p><p>Someone clears their throat awkwardly. I don’t stick around to figure out who. Instead, I sit at the kitchen table, ignoring the awkward lull in conversation and try not to think about what Snow just said.</p><p>(Meaning I can think of nothing else. What a stupid turn of phrase, ‘being together.’ What does that mean to him? We’re almost always together these days, but the hopeful part of me is wishing he meant it in a more figurative sense. Together— two parts of a single whole. That’s what I am, but I don’t think Snow is astute enough to realize this. That our cohabitation and codependence is based on more than the demands of a perverse magickal ritual we accidentally set in motion when we were children.)</p><p>Gareth and Rhys take so long to leave that even Bunce gives up on forcing us to come up with a plan on how to deal with the Humdrum tonight. Instead she retires to her room, leaving us off the hook until tomorrow.</p><p>I’m grateful for it, but I know it won’t last. I dutifully bring out the maps and records Bunce keeps and distract myself by marking a star near Ipswich and adding the date. Then because it feels productive to actually do something, I cross reference the copies of the Record with the maps and fill in information where it’s missing. Dates, GPS locations, holes.</p><p>None of it makes sense. My mind is still trying to catch up and process tonight’s events— and I doubt I’m of any help to Bunce and Snow’s heroic plans. I’m still too caught up in thinking about Snow, in how it felt to watch him face down the Humdrum’s Roc alone.</p><p>My heart rate isn’t yet back to normal, and my throat still feels a little tight. My hands are shaking as I wrap them around my mug. I should be upset about the Humdrum attack, I know- but I’m far more upset at the memory of Simon, alone, so determined to meet his destiny.</p><p>He shouldn’t feel like he has to do it alone. He isn’t alone.</p><p>But there’s no way I can tell him that.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>SIMON</strong>
</p><p>I can’t get Rhys and Gareth to leave fast enough. It was the right thing to do to explain how they ended up with me in Ipswich, but I hadn’t wanted them there any more than Baz did.</p><p>I’m not blind. I saw the way he glowered as we took the tube back to the flat. He didn’t look at me once, but I could practically feel the energy radiating off him.</p><p>We’ve been apart for over a week. It’s probably why he and Penny ended up finding us in the first place— he’d been ill and needed me to make him better. I had gone to a non-essential Coven meeting to pass the time while waiting for him to get home when Rhys and Gareth asked me for a chat. At the time I was only looking to entertain myself for an afternoon instead of waiting around anxiously for Baz to get back, but of course I regret it now.</p><p>(I had wanted to be at the flat when he got back— I can only imagine how difficult being apart this week was for him. I wanted to make it as easy as possible— to be sitting right in my spot on the sofa when he got home so he could sit in his favourite chair and pretend like it was only a fancy instead of something he <em>needed </em>to do.)</p><p>(As an aside though, the week has also been difficult for <em>me</em>. There was no information in that book about how the vampire bond affects the bondmate, but I definitely feel <em>something</em>. This week has been awful without him— I’ve been able to think about nothing else. I’ve been missing something, and now that he’s back, the only thing I can think about is locking the door to our room and just— being together. Being as close to each other as possible. I’m almost frantic with it. I thought he’d felt the same way, but when Rhys and Gareth finally leave, he’s still sitting at the kitchen table, drinking his tea leisurely and going through Penny’s hoard of maps and notes.)</p><p>I get ready for bed, hoping he’ll finish up soon, but he’s still not in our room by the time I turn off the lights and climb under my sheets.</p><p>I don’t know how long I lie there in disappointment, but eventually the door opens silently, and Baz comes into the room so quietly I’m not entirely sure he’s even there until I feel the mattress of my bed dip under his weight.</p><p>He doesn’t bother with pleasantries, instead pushing the covers aside and climbing on top of me. My hands are on him so quickly I don’t make the conscious decision to move them.</p><p>Every part of me needs to be closer to him. Something in me breaks when he shrugs out of my grasp. When I try to touch him again, he moves quickly, grasping my wrists in his hands.</p><p>“You’re distracting me,” he says, licking a long stripe up the side of my neck and pinning me to the mattress. I don’t care— I want to touch him— I <em>need </em>to touch him.</p><p>He hisses but his eyes light up as I try to flip him underneath me. It’s hard work, grappling with him in my sheets. He moans when I bite at his shoulder, but he’s a stubborn thing, refusing to give in.</p><p>(I can relate. I like fighting him too. It always puts me to rights to have my hands on him— it’s familiar, being tangled up in a sweaty, panting heap— even if there’s fewer clothes and more skin than there used to be.)</p><p>(I always wonder how much of his strength he’s using when we get like this. It can’t be everything— I know he’s so much stronger than I am. But he always knows how to temper his strength so it feels like an even fight. Something about it gets me hot, the idea that he knows me so well— that he knows what I’m capable of and meets the challenge. That he makes it one.)</p><p>It’s late and I’m sloppy, muscles loose and lazy as I’m overpowered and pressed into the mattress. I’ve always hated losing to Baz, but this time I don’t think I’ll mind at all.</p><p>“Surrender,” he breathes, grinding against me long and slow. I can feel him hard against my leg, and I lick my lips.</p><p>“What will you give me?” I ask him, sliding a hand down the back of his pants. He moves so quickly I don’t have time to react, leaning forward and pinning me to the bed by my wrists.</p><p>It’s so quiet, I can barely hear him over the sound of my racing heart. “Everything.”</p><p>That sounds promising.</p><p>“Alright then,” I agree, testing the strength of his hold before giving in and going limp underneath him.</p><p>The mattress shifts again as Baz leans over and grabs his wand. I startle as I feel the warmth of his magic spreading through me.</p><p>“<strong>Stay put! Better safe than sorry!</strong>”</p><p>I try to lift my hands from above my head, but they won’t move. The look Baz gives me makes something warm and tight shiver down my spine.</p><p> </p><p>
  
</p><p> </p><p> <strong>BAZ</strong></p><p>The bond demands physical proximity, that’s all. Just being near Snow over the past few hours has already chased my headache away.</p><p>But it hasn’t been enough.</p><p>My heart has still been pounding, my ears ringing as I think about how close I came to losing him. When I close my eyes, I can still see him— outlined by the setting sun as he faces down a Roc with nothing but a sword and a hand-me-down wand.</p><p>(It’s just like when I dragged him out of that cursed book. <em>How can you be so selfish?! </em>I’d hissed at him, dragging him away from the kitchen table and spelling him to rights. <em>Sorry, </em>he’d mumbled as he caught his breath, <em>I didn’t mean to put your life at risk</em>. Moron, as if I had been thinking about myself and not the hundreds of people who depend on him to do the right thing. To be their saviour. I couldn’t give a rat’s arse about my own life, but his— his is important. At least the whole episode had finally given Bunce an excuse to get rid of the damned thing. Good riddance.)</p><p>(I had been displeased when I’d moved in and found it in their possession. It’s the only book I’d ever happily burn, given the opportunity. I remember it from when Fiona brought it to the house, shortly after I’d started showing signs. I remember her and my father pouring over it late into the night while Daphne fussed over me and taught herself how to make black pudding and blood sausages.)</p><p>I swallow, sitting on his hips and looking at him underneath me. Pupils wide, mouth wet— safe. He’ll always be safe as long as I’m alive to protect him.</p><p>I bury my face in the space between his neck and shoulder, licking at the skin there. The smell of him makes me ache, makes something behind my eyes itch.</p><p>I’m already closer than I need to be, but I’m still not close enough.</p><p>I’ll never be close enough to him.</p><p>I want to take it slow, savour him, but I’m too wound up. I divest him of his clothing so quickly he barely has time to look surprised. Then I get rid of mine and finally, finally— I feel the warmth of his skin against mine.</p><p>I grab the bottle of lube from under his mattress and delight in the shift of his expression— anticipation to confusion— the furrow between his brows as he tries to work it all out. Something swells within me as I watch his look of confusion melt away into something like awe, and he lets out my name on a shaky breath.</p><p>I will never have as much of Simon Snow as I want, but what I have now is more than I ever imagined I would get. And here, pressed together in the dark, I intend to take everything I can get.</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <strong>SIMON</strong>
</p><p>“Alright, Snow?” he asks, and I grunt in response. He’s tight, and wet, and every part of me is screaming at myself to get closer to him- to push in deeper. “Snow?”</p><p>“Fuck, Baz, fuck. Just- I need—”</p><p>“Ah, it’s like that, is it?” I want to fuck that smug look off his face, but my hips won’t move. He cocks an eyebrow and watches my face as he readjusts, sliding down slowly until my bollocks are pressed against his arse. “How’s that feel, Snow? Enough for you yet?”</p><p>“Will you just—” I lose the rest of my thought as he starts moving his hips slowly. It’s bliss— better than bliss really, panting and thrashing against his spell as he rides me. It’s also the hottest thing I’ve ever seen, watching the muscles in his thighs shift as he fucks himself on me. I briefly wish for control of my hands, but I wouldn’t even know where to put them first.</p><p>I want to touch every part of him.</p><p>Every part of me feels so right, exactly where I belong. Inside him, underneath him— as close as we can possibly be. I can sense the bond between us, a living thing, strong and powerful as we move together, exactly the way we were meant to.</p><p>“Baz.” I want him to feel it too.</p><p>“Yes, Snow. Yes.” He’s gorgeous, head thrown back and shoulders tense as he pushes down against my thighs for leverage.</p><p>Nothing has ever felt so good. Not fighting, or magic, or the first time I walked through the gates at Watford.</p><p>“I’m going to come,” I choke out, struggling against the spell.</p><p>I have no idea how it happens— whether Baz ends the spell, or my own magic breaks me free of it. But when I come, my whole body hums with the rightness of it— Baz in my lap, my tongue in his mouth, and our arms wrapped tight around each other.</p><p>-</p><p>The next morning when I get up, I notice Baz is gone, as usual. I glance over my shoulder but his bed is empty and still neatly made. I get up, pulling on a pair of trackies and stumbling to the loo across the hall.</p><p>My knees feel shaky.</p><p>Penny is sitting at the kitchen counter, flipping through a copy of the Record with her laptop open next to her. She’s got her maps and a pen out, making notes in her neat writing.</p><p>I guess we’ve put this off long enough. But I’ve got other things to worry about first.</p><p>“Have you seen Baz this morning?” I ask her, going straight for the fridge.</p><p>“Yeah,” she says, poking at her keyboard. “Practically ran out of here first thing. I was still in my pyjamas.”</p><p>Typical.</p><p>I sigh and pull some cold pizza from the back of the fridge. Of course he wouldn’t have stayed. I don’t know why I thought he would this time.</p><p>Would it be too much to ask for to wake up and find his grey eyes across the pillow from me? To pull him into a kiss, morning breath and all?</p><p>To maybe talk about what’s going on between us?</p><p>“This bond is really throwing me off,” I admit, picking artichokes off the slice in my hands. (Fucking Baz. Of course he can’t eat pizza like a normal bloke, and instead always insists on all these posh rubbish toppings.)</p><p>“You’re the one who asked him to move in,” Penny reminds me, still nose first in the Record.</p><p>“Nah, that’s fine. It’s almost like being back at school,” I admit.</p><p>(Except with more kissing. And sex. And the constant, overwhelming need to be near him, know what he’s doing. So much worse than it was at school, because now it’s like having whiplash, having him pressed against me at night, and then losing him completely during the day. At least at school I always knew he was close by. Who knows where Baz goes when he’s not here or in class— he could be anywhere in London, and I don’t like it.)</p><p>“So, what’s eating you?”</p><p>“Just— the bond, I guess. It’s really having a go at me. I’m all messed up. It’s exhausting, trying to fight it.” I admit, stuffing the rest of the slice in my mouth before picking up another.</p><p>Penny stops typing and looks up at me over the top of her glasses.</p><p>“You’re saying you’re feeling the effects of the bond?” she asks.</p><p>“Yeah— just. I’m not used to handling this kind of magic. I can’t stop thinking about him, being near him. It’s been making me crazy whenever we’re apart.” It makes me crazy when we’re pressed together too, but I decide to keep that to myself.</p><p>Penny closes her laptop and blinks at me from behind her glasses. “That’s— you know you’re not affected by the bond, right?”</p><p>I pause, slice of pizza halfway to my mouth. “What?”</p><p>“The bond. It’s a vampire bond— it doesn’t affect you.”</p><p>“But—” The need. The desire. The non-stop thoughts about him. “That doesn’t make sense,” I say quietly, thinking about last night, the swell of the bond in me. How right it felt to fit our bodies together, moving as one.</p><p>(That was more than just sex. It was <em>magic</em>.)</p><p>Penny shakes her head. “Sorry Si, but it’s true. That’s why the book doesn’t even discuss cross-species bonding- the bond affects vampires only. Only Baz suffers the side effects. Anything you’re dealing with, anything you’re feeling- it’s not the bond.”</p><p>Not the bond.</p><p>I’ve gotten off with Baz every night we’ve been in the same room since that first time. Because I’ve wanted to. Licked the salt from his skin because I <em>needed </em>to.</p><p>It’s got to be the bond. It couldn’t be anything else.</p><p>I look at Penny helplessly, but we both know there isn’t anything she can do for me. And we are not going to have a conversation about anything I’ve just thought.</p><p>I press my forehead to the kitchen counter and sigh. What else could this be if it’s not the bond? Has Baz somehow put me in his thrall?</p><p>I think of his eyes, the sound of his voice— and realize that it’s very, very possible.</p><p>(The book had conflicting information about the thrall. It’s a toss-up, apparently. A combination of the individual strength of the actual vampire and the will of the prey— or person. I have no doubt Baz is powerful enough to have put me in some kind of thrall… but I don’t really think that he would.)</p><p>So what does it all mean?</p><p>I decide I don’t need to answer that question right now, and that it’s probably okay to keep ignoring it. Whatever <em>this </em>is.</p><p>“What news?” I ask Penny, because I know she’s probably dying to come up with a plan. I appreciate that she took the time to ask me about my troubles, but I can admit that I probably should be focusing on the Humdrum instead of Baz.</p><p>She flips through a couple of pages before answering. “My dad has been up in Margate all morning with his team. There’s a huge hole that opened up yesterday.”</p><p>I nod glumly.</p><p>(I wish Baz were here. I thought that maybe I could count on him to help us. Thought that maybe I wouldn’t have to feel so alone in all this.)</p><p>My mobile pings, and I fumble for it eagerly. Maybe Baz has had time to cool off. Maybe he’s finally ready to—</p><p>I frown as I read the newest message in a long line of missed notifications from the Mage.</p><p>
  <strong>-</strong>
</p><p>The Mage asked to meet him at his office, probably to talk about the Humdrum. I’m glad he reached out— I didn’t think he’d want to talk at all after the last official Coven meeting, where Dr. Wellbelove and Mr. Grimm broached the topic of nominating me for the official Mage position.</p><p>(I don’t even want it. The Mage will always hold the position of the Mage to me— whether or not he ever officially gets promoted out of his interim seat. I can’t see myself sitting in an office day after day. I know he’s gone a lot— off doing other things and that part sounds cool— the adventures. But sitting at his desk approving and rejecting decrees— that’s not me.)</p><p>(I thought it might be Baz’s kind of thing though. He loves being more powerful than everyone else— and criticizing them. And he’d get to tell people what to do, which he already does— but now they’d have to actually listen to him. He’s been a lot less political recently— but he never misses an opportunity to roll his eyes and sigh loudly at all my ideas at the Coven meetings. I’d snapped at him once, told him that maybe if my ideas were so offensive to him then maybe he could start contributing some of his own— but the fallout wasn’t worth it. Hell hath no fury like a Pitch who feels disrespected.)</p><p>I hope we can clear this up, it’s obvious The Mage must have been pretty ticked off by the whole thing- he sent me so many messages. And because I spent so much time fretting over this… <em>problem </em>with Baz, I missed them. And now he won’t answer my calls.</p><p>I fiddle my thumbs as I take the tube, and then a bus because Baz isn’t around to drive me. That, and because his car was totaled, crushed underfoot by the Roc as we all fought to take it down. I figure he can probably afford another, or borrow one from his parents, but when I brought it up he snapped at me. Penny says it’s because he’s in mourning, which doesn’t make sense because it was just a car. A shiny green one, but a car all the same.</p><p>When I finally get to the school, the Mage isn’t in his office. It’s a wreck, though. Books and papers scattered everywhere, a sword I don’t recognize kicked halfway under his desk.</p><p>Strange.</p><p>I look out the windows and see the grounds are eerily quiet for the middle of the week— I suppose because most of them took the day to be with family on the equinox. It’s always so close to the beginning of the school year— and it was usually the cause of my first real fight with Baz after the summer. He never missed the opportunity to remind me that he had a huge family to spend time with, and that just because I was back at school among mages didn’t mean I was any more wanted than I was during the summers when I was alone.</p><p>I hate the equinox. S’not like it actually means anything. And nothing good <em>ever </em>happens on auspicious days.</p><p>And it’s just as I think that thought that I hear the faint sound of screaming and breaking glass.</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <strong>BAZ</strong>
</p><p>When I go back to the apartment in the early afternoon, it’s because I’m weak. Not weak in the way I’m used to being these days (physically), but <em>emotionally</em>.</p><p>I knew waking up alone would hurt him. For all that he’s emotionally stunted, Snow enjoys a good cuddle. It’s a big reason why I had to leave this morning. It was unbearable lying there in his arms, knowing that it was only happening because he’s chronically starved for physical contact. Because he was asleep, and blissfully unaware.</p><p>The thought of having him wake up and pull away was too much— so I made sure I was the one to leave first. In fact, I left with such haste that I forgot my phone and wallet somewhere in our room.</p><p>It’s been a terrible day. A boring one. And now I’m barely halfway through it and I’ve realized— leaving him hurts <em>me</em> too.</p><p>I’m pathetic.</p><p>When I get back, I expect to find him pouty and sulking in our room. But instead the place is completely empty.</p><p>I find my mobile under his bed, and my desperation convinces me to indulge myself and crawl under his sheets. He didn’t change them this morning (disgusting), and they smell like him.</p><p>Like us.</p><p>Because I’ve learned how clingy Snow is, I’m not surprised to see twenty-seven missed calls when I finally check my mobile.</p><p>I <em>am </em>surprised when I see that they’re all from Bunce.</p><p>-</p><p>“Why would you let him go?” I hiss at Bunce, when she takes a breath in between spelling the Prius.</p><p>This change in luck is giving me whiplash.</p><p>Less than twenty-four hours ago I was in Simon Snow’s lap, feeling his heartbeat under my hands. Everything was Simon. Now I’m racing down the motorway in a stolen Prius, while Bunce yells at me and tries desperately to spell the other cars out of our way— as we rush to Watford to save Snow.</p><p>“Because you didn’t pull it all together sooner!” she accuses. “I’m still not convinced this means something. Plenty of people celebrate the equinox with the people they care about. Maybe he just wanted to see Simon?”</p><p>She’s not wrong, but the tone of her voice doesn’t convince me that she believes what she’s saying even for a second. We didn’t carjack the nice old lady that runs the specialty cat food store down the block because we were mildly concerned about Snow. We realize that we were both too slow on the uptake, which means the Mage has had too much time to scheme and plan for whatever his preferred outcome is.</p><p>(It won’t be good. <em>‘He’s never tried to hurt Simon before,’ </em>Bunce had argued, but that’s not entirely true. Everything he’s done over the years has hurt Simon, albeit not overtly. He’s kept him isolated and alone— in care homes among Normals, sent him after monsters— hidden the truth about what he is from him. Either way, I doubt Simon even knows what he’s about to walk into. Bunce and I only just figured it out, there’s no way Simon is expecting anything other than some tea and chat about the Humdrum’s attack yesterday.)</p><p>We can’t even imagine what the Mage— the first person to find Simon, to know about him— might be planning. We have no idea what else he’s been trying to keep from us.</p><p>About what Simon really is.</p><p><em>Can I be in love with a supervillain? </em>I think to myself as Bunce puts another round of spells into the car.</p><p>But it’s too late to think about that now— the sun is already starting to set, the day fading into the beginning of night. Two halves of a single whole, perfectly balanced between light and darkness.</p><p>I used to love autumn equinox. We’d celebrate it as a family together, that auspicious moment of balance and harmony in our magic.</p><p>Two sides of the same coin.</p><p>Day and night. Life and Death. Simon and the Humdrum.</p><p>Bunce flinches as we crash through the gate and come to a skidding halt on the lawn. The grounds are scattered with students and we look towards where they’re all staring— the top of the White Chapel.</p><p>I can smell Simon’s magic from here, bursts of light blinking through the cracked windows, but it’s the dry scratchy feeling in the back of my throat that makes me start running.</p><p>“The Mage has forbidden everyone from going up there!” one of the students calls as we run by. “You’ll be expelled!”</p><p>“Not if we kill him first,” I say as we run by, but my voice is lost to the sound of thunder as the sky opens up above us, and the rain starts.</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <strong>SIMON</strong>
</p><p>I felt like I was about to go off— until Baz and Penny burst into the Chapel, directly between me and the Mage. Then instead of going off on him like I was about to— I tried to hold it all in— to keep the two of them safe even as the Mage kept trying to pull it out of me. Like he didn’t care what that would do to all of us. Or to the <em>building. </em></p><p>When the Humdrum finally showed up, bouncing that ball I used to love, it was almost a relief. Something that could save us all from ourselve—- and me from whatever the hell is wrong with me.</p><p>The details don’t matter to me anymore. Not when I feel like I’m seconds away from vaporizing the only people I care about. Whatever he is— the Humdrum wants to eat magic.</p><p>Well, we’ll see how long it takes him to chew on this.</p><p>-</p><p>Fire, smoke.</p><p>I take a deep breath and feel my lungs burning.</p><p>My eyes sting and the back of my throat burns, even as the rest of me sags to the ground, completely wrung out.</p><p>The room is spinning, and I’m swaying from where I kneel on the stone floor. Glass digs into my knees, and I think one of the rafters is on fire. I’ve never felt so cold. So nauseous. So dizzy. I brace myself on a trembling arm as I lean over and throw up— all over Baz’s shoes.</p><p>I’m shaking and covered in a cold sweat. And now I smell like vomit, too.</p><p>“Baz—” my voice shakes as he spells away the vomit and kneels down in front of me. I don’t know what I was going to say to him.</p><p>I’ve never felt so weak in my life.</p><p>(So scared. So empty.)</p><p>It’s like I’m the hole now, my body brittle and hollowed out.</p><p>I have nothing. I am nothing.</p><p>“Simon.”</p><p>I feel a wet, cold hand behind my neck, and I let my face fall onto Baz’s shoulder. I’m going to cry. Another cold hand comes up to the underside of my chin, follows the line of my neck down to my chest, before settling over my heart.</p><p>The first push makes me jolt, but Baz uses his super strength to hold me where I am. It starts like a burn— sharp and unpleasant, but then it fades away into a raw sort of tenderness, a warmth just this side of unbearable.</p><p>It blooms from where we’re connected, hand over heart, and spreads through the hollowed-out parts of me, until I feel like my body can support itself again. Until all the emptiness inside me is chased away, replaced with something new, something warm and rich crawling through my veins and filling me up from the inside out.</p><p> </p><p> <strong>PENNY</strong></p><p>It’s right then, at the top of the White Chapel, that I finally understand Basil Pitch. That I learn something he’s managed to hide for who knows how long, and probably has never wanted to admit.</p><p>There’s so much about magic that we still don’t know. So much to research and so much to explore.</p><p>It’s unprecedented— for one mage to give their magic to another. It shouldn’t be possible. Magic is the deepest part of ourselves— the most fundamental part of who we are. It’s part of our souls. But even more than that, it’s something special, something that belongs only to us. It doesn’t make any kind of sense to give it away. </p><p>This is ground-breaking. The makings of a thesis paper. But looking at Baz, eyes closed and grey lips parted, his hand steady over Simon’s heart— I know this is something too personal to be witnessing. An unforgivable intrusion.</p><p>So I turn around and drag the Mage’s limp body through the trapdoor and down the stairs instead.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>SIMON</strong>
</p><p>I wake up in my old bed atop Mummers, the sound of rain hitting the windows.</p><p>Penny is sitting at the end, looking frazzled and terrified. We make eye contact I know we’re both thinking the same thing. Wordlessly we both look over at Baz, who’s laid out sleeping on his own bed. I watch the rise and fall of his chest for longer than I need before the feeling of hysteria crawling up my throat goes away somewhat.</p><p>Penny jerks her head towards the ensuite, and we scramble into the tub, sitting knee to knee in the small space.</p><p>“There’s going to be an inquest,” she says quietly. “The Coven is already aware.”</p><p>I nod. I don’t want to talk about the Mage.</p><p>“How do you feel?” she asks.</p><p>I shrug.</p><p>It’s weird, not to feel my magic pulsing under my skin. I don’t feel like myself.</p><p>(Unless— all I’ve ever felt before was the uncontrollable push of my magic. And that now, sitting here in the tub with Penny, is the first time I’ve been able to really feel like myself.)</p><p>“Can you use it?” she asks. I know she’s been dying to ask since I woke up.</p><p>I pull out my wand.</p><p>I was expecting it to go wrong. To <em>feel </em>wrong. But Baz’s magic hums under my skin, feeling more like a part of me than my own magic ever did.</p><p>A few months ago, that would have scared me. A few weeks ago, even. But now, holding my wand and feeling Baz’s warmth— it feels right. It feels like carrying a part of home in me.</p><p>“Try it,” Penny whispers and I jump. I had forgotten she was there.</p><p>I pick up my wand and try the first spell that comes to mind. “<strong>Tell-tale heart!</strong>”</p><p>I smile at the sound of knocking. I’ve never been able to work that spell before. Micah had taught it to Penny in fourth year— something about some American poet— and I’ve always thought it would be dead useful for pranks.</p><p>Penny gasps. “Simon—!” I pause, then I notice it too.</p><p>We both stare at my chest. “That’s not how the spell is supposed to work,” I say quietly. The spell makes knocking noises from under the floorboards (hence the prank potential)— but this sound is coming from my <em>chest. </em></p><p>And it’s not just knocking either- it’s my heartbeat.</p><p>I put my hand over my heart.</p><p>A look of awe blooms over Penny’s face. “Have you ever read the story, Simon?” she asks, and I shake my head.</p><p>“What do you think it means, Pen?” I ask her quietly.</p><p>“I think—” she says, looking over her shoulder. “I think you need to talk to Baz. Really talk to him.”</p><p>I frown. “Baz doesn’t want to talk to me,” I admit, picking at the seam of my trousers. “He’s made that very clear.” It hurts to even admit it.</p><p>Penny frowns. “He <em>gave </em>it to you,” Penny says hoarsely, her voice catching. I’m nodding without listening, my ears ringing.</p><p>I have his magic, I’m full of it. I can feel it in the hollow spaces between my bones, in the beat of my heart.</p><p>I end the spell and leave Penny there in the tub, heading back into our room.</p><p>But Baz’s bed is empty.</p><p>He’s gone.</p><p> </p><p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>BAZ</strong>
</p><p>I wake up in my bed in Mummers. I’m exhausted. I check my watch— I shouldn’t still feel this drained this long after it all. I toe my shoes on and pick my wand up, reaching for my magic to lace up my shoes. I almost sob when the simple spell is noticeably more draining.</p><p>I can hear Snow and Bunce in the ensuite, whispering feverishly.</p><p>I should go in there, make sure Snow is okay.</p><p>Instead, I leave the room, shutting the door quietly behind me.</p><p>My father is ready to keep the war going when I show up at home, my clothing singed and considerably less powerful. He and Fiona sit in his office, making plans and writing angry letters to the Coven.</p><p>“I had a choice,” I tell them honestly. “I chose this.”</p><p>Fiona yells some more, pointing her finger and stamping her feet. My father frowns and stares at the portrait of my mother he keeps on his desk.</p><p>That first night, Daphne finds me on the porch swing and holds me as I cry, running her hands through my hair. She tells me that I was brave. That she’s proud of me.</p><p>I’ve never loved her more.</p><p>I block Snow’s number when he starts calling and texting. I’m aware that my anger at him is probably misplaced, but I can’t help it. I’m still trying to adjust.</p><p>It gets better though. After a couple of days, my magic stabilizes somewhat, making it easy to control again. There’s much less of it, but I figure I can teach myself to conserve what I have. No more showing off with draining, showy spells— an inconvenience, for certain.</p><p>Despite what I’m feeling, I don’t regret my choice.</p><p>I reluctantly continue attending Coven meetings when the headaches start coming back. I decide that it’s the lesser of two evils. A couple of looks is all it takes for Snow to realize that I’m not there to socialize, and he sits near me in silence, wringing his hands. He tries to catch my eye, but I ignore him.</p><p>The inquiry keeps being delayed— the Mage is still in some sort of magickally-induced coma, and isn’t able to be questioned. None of us want to talk about what happened— surprisingly Snow hasn’t already opened his mouth and blabbed to everyone— so the entire thing kind of… fades away.</p><p>Doctor Wellbelove suggests that a new interim Mage should be elected. Someone mentions Simon’s name, but he fidgets and looks to me instead of agreeing. When I don’t look his way, he promises Doctor Wellbelove he’ll think about it, but that’s all for now.</p><p>Bunce tells me he visits the Mage at the magickal healing centre weekly, although I can’t imagine why. It’s exactly the sort of good, morally upright thing Simon would do though, even if it can’t be healthy. I’d be content to never have anyone mention the Mage ever again.</p><p> </p><p> <strong>SIMON</strong></p><p>I see Baz once a week now, at the Coven meetings. He still sits next to me, staring straight ahead.</p><p>No one there seems to know what to do about the Mage, about his dark magic. The three of us were questioned, and after that the whole thing kind of went away. Probably because it would be too much effort to hold a trial, and not much point to it when the defendant is still in a coma.</p><p>No one likes to talk about the Mage now. I’m the only visitor he gets at the healing centre. It feels unfair, to go from being one of the most important magickal men in the country to someone others can’t even talk about, so I still visit him. So he knows he’s not alone.</p><p>Penny doesn’t understand. She tells me it’s not fair to myself to visit the man who tried to steal my magic from me. Who created the Humdrum with his ignorance and greed.</p><p>I remember complaining about fairness to the Mage, once. ‘<em>Fair</em>?’ he’d said, looking disappointed while I complained about Baz. ‘<em>Life is anything but fair, Simon</em>.’ He was right about that— if there’s something this past year has taught me, it’s that life is anything but fair.</p><p>Take Baz for example. Since the moment I realized what was happening between us, it’s never seemed fair to me that Baz is bound to someone like me. Baz has money, looks, magical talent, a large and dysfunctional but surprisingly loving family- but he’s still stuck with me; down half of his magical reserves because of me.</p><p>Talk about unfair.</p><p>He might be mostly gone from my life, but he’s still part of me. Every time I use his magic (my magic; <em>our</em> magic) I feel the heat of him in me. It makes my chest tight.</p><p>Penny thinks we need to talk, but that’s never been the way between us. Baz would always rather run away from all our problems than ever try and work through them together.</p><p>And, as it turns out, we have bigger problems between us than I ever could have anticipated.</p><p>-</p><p>I come to the realization one stifling night as I lie awake in bed, thinking about Baz; feeling his magic inside me and wondering not for the first or last time, <em>why?</em></p><p>None of it makes sense to me. Baz’s family is obsessed with power, and he’s the last living male heir. His entire life is about power— magickal, political, or otherwise. But it’s beyond being a snob— nothing touches Baz’s life like magic. Everything he does is magic— using it, studying it, reading about it.</p><p>Baz <em>is </em>magic.</p><p>And I’m just… me. A magickless mage, full of stolen magic. Always without. Wanting what I can never have.</p><p><em>‘He gave it to you,’ </em>Penny had told me.</p><p>I sit up straight, my heart pounding.</p><p>I’m outside Baz’s door, knocking and listening to Fiona curse me out before I really understand what I need to do.</p><p>I’m not really a persuasive person, but somehow I convince Baz to drive us to the Wavering Wood.</p><p>(In his new car. I was right, he could afford another one. It looks a lot like the old one, a green so dark it’s almost black, buttery cream coloured leather stretched out over the seats. Just sitting in it makes me feel important and rich.)</p><p>We don’t say a word during the drive, or as I lead him into the forest.</p><p>I spend the whole walk hoping against hope that somehow I’m right about all this.</p><p>After what feels like forever, I stop, looking around. This is the place.</p><p>I clear my throat. “D’you know where we are?” I ask him.</p><p>“In the middle of the fucking forest, in the middle of the fucking night,” he gripes. “You said we needed to talk, Snow. So— talk.”</p><p>“Right.” I scratch the back of my neck, looking around. Baz looks pissed off, probably because I dragged him out of bed without an explanation for this little expedition.</p><p>(The timing could have been better, but I was lying there and all at once everything just started to make sense. Or it seemed like it did anyway, alone in the dark. I had to know right away, I couldn’t bear to just wait in case it got away from me. More than anything, I hope I can convince Baz to see this the same way too.)</p><p>“This is where I broke your nose,” I say quietly. He looks around at the trees. “This is where it happened,” I tell him, because I want him to realize what this place means for us. What it means that I brought him here. I take a deep breath and take a step closer to him. I want to take his hand, but I don’t know if he’d let me. "I think we should bond,” I say. “For real, this time."</p><p>"We are bonded. Literally and actually,” he says peevishly. Trust Baz to try and ruin the moment on purpose- but I won’t let him ruin this.</p><p>"Shut up, you know what I mean." I take a cautious step forwards, and take one of his hands in mine. He looks so surprised that he forgets to be bitchy about it, which is a good sign— because I’m not through with him yet. "Baz— we have a magickal connection. A physical one. An emotional one."</p><p>"No one said anything about emotion—" his voice shakes.</p><p>I toss my head. "You love magic more than anyone else I’ve ever met. You gave it to me—"</p><p>"I was panicking, I wasn't thinking properly—" he starts arguing.</p><p>"That doesn't matter. You love magic, and you chose to give it to me." I pull him forwards, and put his hand over my heart. "It lives in me. I can feel it, it's so warm."</p><p>"Snow—" he’s trembling, but I don’t think it’s a bad thing.</p><p>I take a breath and get down on one knee.</p><p>"I've always been alone. Everyone else, they have things, have somewhere to belong. That’s not how it’s been for me. I’ve never really belonged anywhere before— I don’t know what that’s like— but I want to belong with you. I want us to have that together."</p><p>He shakes his head. “You don’t— you can’t want that. Not from me.”</p><p>“I do. I want you, and I want us to belong to each other.”</p><p>He shakes his head again. “Look, if this about the battle, or the magic—”</p><p>I want to make him understand. “It’s about a lot of things, not just that. You gave part of yourself to me when you gave me your magic. Without asking for anything in return. Now, I want you to have something of mine.”</p><p>He looks down at me, mouth open in surprise before sneering. “Don’t say your heart. Aleister Crowley, I’ll curse you into next week if you say—”</p><p>“That’s not what I was going to say,” I snap at him, yanking my hand back and standing up.</p><p>He narrows his eyes at me. “Then what was it? What flowery words have you been practising all evening—”</p><p>“Why are you such a wanker?” I hiss at him. “Why won’t you let us have this? This could be something good—”</p><p>He laughs. “I already have something good. I don’t need anything else.”</p><p>And he fists the collar of my shirt, expression wild. I swoon even before he dips his head to kiss me.</p><p>
  <em>I already have something good.</em>
</p><p>He means me.</p><p> </p><p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>BAZ</strong>
</p><p>I don’t even remember the first time I tasted Simon’s blood.</p><p>Obviously it must have happened, maybe even in this random thicket he claims to have been the place where I was irrevocably bonded to him for life.</p><p>The second time I taste Simon Snow’s blood I’ll never forget.</p><p>(The sound of the wind in the trees, the bubbling of a nearby creek. The hushed words of the incantation Simon and I whisper to each other— our hands clasped tightly, magic flowing freely between us. My mother hung the moon, but there’s no hope of a showy proposal like that now, with only one person’s magic shared between the two of us. It doesn’t matter though, none of my dreams or fantasies could ever measure up to this— because somehow this is real. Simon Snow wants to be bonded to me— wants to redo the bond we already have, and do it properly. <em>We didn’t even know what was happening, </em>he argues, and I thrill at his insistence for a redo now that he does.)</p><p>It’s only much later, holding hands and staring at the stars between the holes in the canopy of leaves above us, that Simon finally breaks the silence.</p><p>“I guess we’re bonded for life in two dimensions now,” he says, squeezing my hand.</p><p>It’s hard to swallow against the lump in my throat, the swell of my own happiness overwhelming.</p><p>“That’s not how it works,” I correct him, because if I don’t focus on nitpicking, I’ll burst into tears instead. “A mage’s marriage bond requires continuous consent. It can be broken at any time, by either party. You can always change your mind—,”</p><p>He tugs my hand, and I grumble as I roll over and onto him. I try not to swoon as he pushes my hair out of my eyes.</p><p>“We both can,” he says seriously. “But I don’t think either of us will. You’re too stubborn, and now you’ve rubbed off on me.”</p><p>“Tonight is hardly the first time I’ve rubbed off on you,” I say, just because I know it will make him laugh.</p><p>(It does, and the sound is more glorious than it’s ever been before. Because it’s all mine, and I can make him laugh whenever I want now.)</p><p>When we’re done laughing, I let myself tuck my face into the soft spot between his neck and shoulder. I close my eyes and breathe him in. It’s every bit as wonderful as I’d ever imagined.</p><p>“I’m glad we’re both too stubborn, then,” I admit quietly.</p><p>“Oh, that’s not what I meant,” he says. “It has nothing to do with stubbornness— it’s just that living with a vampire has given me many vampire-like traits.”</p><p>“It hasn’t,” I deadpan, thinking about the open window in our bedroom, and the cursed hour Snow usually flings himself out of bed.</p><p>“Oh but it has—” he argues. “In fact, there’s one vampire trait in particular—” I don’t let him finish, instead summoning his abandoned trackies and trying to smother him with them.</p><p>“You mate for life, alright,” I growl as he laughs through a mouthful of fabric. “Hard not to when your life ends scarcely ten minutes after your wedding vows.”</p><p>“Twenty!” he protests, as he tries to strangle me with a sock.</p><p>“A generous twelve,” I barter, grabbing my wand and setting fire to his discarded trainer before he can reach for it.</p><p>“You’re going to have to buy me a new pair,” he grumbles, giving up the fight and tugging on my hair.</p><p>“Buy yourself a new pair, it’s community property now,” I tell him, grinning before letting him pull me down into his arms.</p><p>“Penny’s parents are bonded in five dimensions,” he says, and I sigh.</p><p>“Don’t mention Bunce ever again while we’re starkers,” I tell him seriously.</p><p>“What? Gross— no. I only meant. Solstice isn’t that far away— and you know how many good things happen on auspicious days.” I narrow my eyes at him, wanting to make sure I’m hearing him right. (I am. My hearing is exceptional, superhuman, really.)</p><p>“Do you mean to say—”</p><p>“I’m sure we can find some other freaky bonding rituals in at least three other dimensions. You always do love a challenge— and you never settle for second-best.”</p><p>I smile, and he smiles back, the corners of his eyes crinkling.</p><p>I’ll never say it out loud, but being bonded to him means I’ll never again have to settle for anything less than what I’ve always wanted. Maybe it’s one of those things that goes unpoetically unsaid, or maybe he feels the same, because when he pulls me close again it feels— final. Like giving in to something we’ve both been wanting, and fighting for a long, long time.</p><p>Fighting in place. Mutual surrender.</p><p>I could definitely see myself doing this in five dimensions for the rest of my life. But then again, solstice is still awhiles yet.</p><p>I’d bet we could manage it in six.</p><p> </p><p>
  
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks for checking it out.</p><p><a href="https://krisrix.tumblr.com/">Kris</a> or <a href="https://sharkmartini.tumblr.com/">I</a> can also be found on tumblr.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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